Delicate Things
by ohmyenemy
Summary: Desperate to fulfill Titus's demands for an heir, Lucretia and Batiatus take matters into their own hands. Follow the story of their daughter.
1. Chapter 1

Capua's sweltering summer heat had become nearly unbearable by midday. Octavia fanned herself and glanced over her shoulder at the two men who accompanied her. Both looked as cool as if they were relaxing in the shade of the villa, snacking on chilled raspberries and milk.

"Barca," she called softly, and the taller of her guards stood at attention. With a small hand against him, she gave him a light push to the left. Barca moved easily at her will until his head finally blocked the sun from her view. "Stand right there and do not move," she commanded.

"Domina," he answered with a curt nod of his head.

Octavia returned to examining the shopkeeper's wares. Soaps and perfumes were her desired product of the day. The heat and low water supply had begun to make the stench situation back at the villa dire. She and her parents were always kept well bathed, and the body slaves bathed once a week, but nothing could contain the stench radiating from the ludus down below.

She wished the gladiators would ask to be bathed in reward for their victories, but they never did. They were always for wine and cunt. How the women stomached the stench of the men grunting over top of them, she would never know.

Octavia handed the man a bagful of soaps she had chosen: a handful of floral scents, a few that smelled of honey or apples, and a few that simply smelled like soap. She knew her father well enough to know he would choose to smell like shit before smelling like flowers. She handed the man two denarii for her purchase, a price much steeper than it had been before the drought, before handing the Syrian her purchases. "Domina," said Ashur, before putting his hand upon her.

She didn't have the time to be offended before understanding his movements. A slave was attacking one of his masters not more than ten feet from them. She glanced to Barca, wondering if she should dispatch the Beast of Carthage to subdue this wild animal. She realized quickly that there was no need for her assistance when a handful of other handlers surrounded the man. He fought on, bravely or foolishly, depending on your perspective, until one managed to sneak a blow in that knocked him from his feet. "Fucking cunt!" the first man hissed, blood dribbling from his nose and mouth from the slave's attack. He raised sword to spear the man in the neck, striking him from this world.

"Stop!" she heard herself shout. When the man hesitated, she stepped around Ashur to approach. "I would make purchase of this slave."

The savage looking man on the ground gave her a curious look, but she ignored him. Focusing instead on the confused look of the man with the sword. It was apparent that he was not the slave's true master, but rather hired help. "This slave belongs to Marcus Crassus," he argued.

Octavia hesitated for the briefest of moments. It wasn't every day in Capua that you did business with the wealthiest man in the Republic, even if the transaction was absent the man himself. "I do not suppose Crassus became so heavy with coin by killing slaves he could yet sell," she replied calmly, grateful to Barca's towering presence behind her as the gladiator approached. "Ten denarii for the man," she offered. "A fair price for an untamed stone layer." She could sense the man's hesitation and knew she had to act quickly. "And five denarii to weight your own purse."

The man chuckled at that, his entire demeanor changing. He sheathed his sword and offered out his arm to her. She clutched it and winced at the strength of his grip around her forearm. "A bargain well struck!" he agreed before turning to the rest of his men. "Raise the bastard up!"

Octavia watched the slave rise as she dug in her purse, pulling out fifteen denarii. Her stomach churned at how light her purse suddenly felt. She could only pray her purchase had not been in vain, or father would be displeased. "Let your master know I appreciate doing business with him," she said with a smile before turning on her heel, gesturing for Barca to grab the slave and help him along.

His consciousness came and went. The first time it came he was still being led through the streets, dust and dirt flaring up around him as he struggled to maintain any sort of footing in place of being dragged. He was accustomed to the beatings and had suffered far worse than this before. Such was the life of a slave with an affinity to fighting when his pride was bruised too much.

The second time he was in a villa, or approaching one, not like his master's, no, this one was more modest … though things that were too close were blurry, he could make out the shapes of people, just a few of them, and hear a bit of muffled conversation before his vision went black once more.

He was lying down when he began to stir a third time. Gentle fingers were brushing against the parts of him that hurt the most; above his eye, his cheek, his lip, even at his ribs, something grazed him, gentle as feathers, then a voice as sweet as honey spoke out, "Will he be alright?"

"Previous scars would suggest he is accustomed to this, Domina," another one replied.

"He hasn't woken yet," the voice was closer, he could feel breath hot on his cheek and the smell of apples filled his lungs. "I pray my fifteen denarii did not purchase a corpse." Crixus's eyes opened, vision still blurry but rapidly clearing up. "Bring some water."

"Your father will wonder where you are, Domina. If you are down here with the slaves—"

"It was water I asked for, Ashur, not-ah … he lives." Her blue eyes were kind, expectant but gentle as they looked down at him, her smirk a welcome sight and for a moment, he did not believe her. Surely she was the goddess of mercy here to take him to the underworld. She ran a cool cloth across his head as he tried harder and harder to focus.

"My master—" Crixus tried, suddenly remembering he had actually been tasked with something before the altercation.

"Is me now," she interrupted, pressing him firmly down. "I do hope you'll be more obedient under my ownership than you were with your previous master?" She pushed his hair back off of his sweaty forehead and he found himself staring up at her in awe. He must've died for this was something beyond life. Why would the gods bless him, though, with such a radiant sight?

"Water, Domina." Octavia looked up to Ashur, who had a disapproving look on his face, as if wanting to say more, but resisting the urge to. She gave him one last warning look before bringing the drink to the new slave's lips.

"Drink," she insisted, and he did, without a moment's hesitation, he would obey whatever command she gave.

The man spluttered and spit up more water than he took down, but he grew stronger with every drink he took. By the time the cup was empty, he seemed able to sit on his own, though Octavia kept a gentle hand behind his head to make certain he remained so. The last thing she needed was for him to pass out and crack his skull. Fifteen denarii and all she would get were his brains spilled upon the ludus. "What is your name, slave?" she asked when he seemed coherent enough to answer.

"Crixus," came his reply.

"Do you know where you are, Crixus?" she asked.

He had forgotten her question by the time his name left her lips. Had his name ever sounded so sweet? His eyes found their way to her lips, pink and plump and pursed expectantly as she awaited his answer. "No, Domina," he answered, forcing his eyes back to hers.

"You are in the House of Batiatus," she informed him. "My father is a lanista. He trains gladiators," she explained needlessly. Crixus knew what a lanista was. The clashing of steel he heard just outside was beginning to make sense. Did she mean for him to become a gladiator, he wondered. He looked to her with imploring eyes, and suddenly the hand at the back of his head found his cheek, clean fingers brushed against the dirt that had been caked on for weeks. "You are capable of much more than laying stones," she told him. "I see it in your eyes, your potential, your strength ..." Crixus nodded in agreement, though his head was growing cloudier by the second. But then his mind was clear as she took a step back, releasing her hold, fading into the shadows of the dimly lit room. His mouth fell open in silent protest as he reached a hand toward her, before quickly forcing it back to his side. "Or was I wrong to place my faith in you?"

"No, Domina," he answered, with more conviction than she had thought his weakened form capable of. "I will not disappoint you."

Octavia smiled as she stepped toward him again. "No," she agreed. "I do not expect you will." She extended a hand to him and Crixus stared down at it. "Can you stand, Crixus?" His gaze shot to her again upon hearing his name. He gave a curt nod and proved himself by pushing off of the stone tablet and standing. He wobbled only slightly but was pleased he could show he was still strong enough to stand without assistance. After all, what use would he be to her as a gladiator if he was weak? His domina looked him over from head to toe, and he was relieved when she seemed pleased. "Come, then," she commanded, stepping toward the light that was coming from the only exit.

Crixus followed his new domina out into the blinding sunlight. He shielded his eyes for a moment, waiting for them to adjust, as the clashing of steel subsided. When he opened his eyes again he saw two dozen gladiators before him, heads all bowed in silent respect as Octavia crossed the ludus. "Gannicus," he heard her call, her voice barely above a whisper.

Crixus watched as one of the gladiators approached, a smirk playing on his lips. "Domina," he greeted the girl, less formally than Crixus had heard from the other slaves. In fact, everything about the man seemed oddly familiar when Crixus considered that one was a master and one was a slave. He stood closer than the other gladiators had, he smiled where the others had been somber.

What vexed Crixus even more was that his Domina did not seem to mind. "I would have you train the newest recruit," she informed Gannicus, whose eyes shifted to Crixus upon hearing the command. "He is a purchase of my own and I would see him as skilled as possible before my father lays eyes upon him."

The smirk on Gannicus's face grew to a grin. "And so you come to the Champion of Capua," he said, swaying slightly where he stood.

"Who happens to be a drunken fool," said Octavia, though there was no bite to her word. "Forget it. Oenomaus will handle things, as he's always done," she said, turning on her heel.

Gannicus caught her wrist with a gentle grip, bringing her to a stop. Octavia hesitated where she was, staring down at the hand on her wrist, wondering why it's placement was making her head feel light. It lingered for another short moment before Gannicus realized his mistake and flexed his hand, bringing it back to his side. "Apologies," he muttered, looking to the ground now, his face absent its usual smirk.

"I should think so," Octavia answered. "Where is Oenomaus?"

"I would do it, Domina," Gannicus said firmly. "For you." She smiled and Crixus stared between the two, confusion etched in his features, he could feel it there. His head hurt as he tried to make sense of the interaction, the looks between them.

"Crixus," she called, and it was like a song. "I want you to listen to Gannicus, he is the champion here, so he must be doing something right," she smirked at the cocky man again. "Heed his training, and learn your skill quickly. I'd hate to disappoint father. Wouldn't you?" she asked them both.

"Yes, Domina," they answered in unison. She smiled and nodded at them in approval. "As you wish," Gannicus added.

"Bring glory to us and I'll make sure you are heavily rewarded. Disappoint me and, well," she giggled sweetly. "I'm certain you know what awaits you should you fail."

"The only reward I request is to see your smile, Domina," Gannicus said, his arrogance rising and falling quickly. Crixus gritted his teeth as he looked after her, she nodded and left, her soft curls swaying behind her in the dry wind. Her dress swayed and stuck to her body in such a way, he was mesmerized until he felt a sharp shove from behind.

"You heard our Domina," Gannicus grunted. "Collect your sword and shield, or I'll start without you." Just like that she was gone, disappeared like a dream he'd awaken from too soon. He wanted her back, longed for her gaze, her scent again. When would he see her again?

He suddenly fell forward to the ground, his mouth filling with dirt and the pain in his back was excruciating. "What the fuck did I just say?" Gannicus laughed from above him before a sword landed in the dirt beside him, a shield soon followed. Crixus cringed before reaching for the sword and shield and rising to face his assailant.

It didn't take long for the rest of his body to hurt, but for every mistake he made, he did not make it again. His only fortune came from the fact that the swords they fought with were wood, and not steel. He would not disappoint her, he thought to himself as he swung and ducked, dodged the strikes from the man with ten times his skill.

* * *

A/N: Damn I doubt anyone is actually reading Spartacus fanfiction anymore … if anyone ever did … I really wish that show had been more popular so there would be more fanfics for me to read. Anyway, author's note in case anyone does read this:

Please don't take this too seriously. Everything I post on this website is something written years ago with a friend for fun. I am taking the time to go through and edit old stories I miss or enjoyed to post them on here, not for reviews, but so that I can come back to them and read them later at my convenience.


	2. Chapter 2

Octavia felt a nervous flutter in her belly as she waited for her father to return home. A few months ago, her purchase of a slave would have been a thing of little concern. But the drought had put a serious strain on their purse. It was too hot for the games to proceed as usual, and fewer and fewer were being held as time went on.

Her father had always been an ambitious man. Always scheming, always overreaching. The House of Batiatus had risen and fallen a hundred times since she was old enough to remember, but her father continued on, desperate to elevate their house to something more. To rise the steps of the senate and leave the humble ludus behind.

"Domina," a voice called and Octavia turned sharply.

Her body slave, Melitta, stood before her. There was a panic to her face that matched the urgency in her voice. "What is it, Melitta?" she asked, quickly approaching the woman.

"There are men waiting," Melitta explained, stepping further into the room and grabbing Octavia by the arms. "Roman men, and they appear of a mood. Your father has not yet returned. Stay here, and I will keep them occupied until he returns-"

"Melitta," she said, gripping the older woman's face in her hands. "These Roman men have come to a ludus filled with the most deadly gladiators in all of Capua. I do not think they have come for a fight."

"And if they have?"

Octavia hesitated for the briefest of moments. Her father had more enemies than she could count. It was not entirely ridiculous to assume that one of them would make attempt on the villa. "Have Barca join us presently," she commanded one of the guards waiting outside of her bedroom before following Melitta to the entrance of the villa.

There were only two men waiting for her in the foyer of the villa, and only one truly looked angry. The other, a blonde man, looked her over with vague amusement as she approached. Whoever the men were, however, Octavia knew they were important by their uniforms. She opened her mouth to greet them, but the angry looking man beat her to it. "Are you the one who made purchase of my slave?" he demanded, a tone of authority in his voice that could not be denied.

The question hit Octavia hard as she gave the man a more attentive look. The man she had struck a bargain with had said the slave belonged to Marcus Crassus, but she hadn't believed him, not truly. She believed that Marcus Crassus stood in her home now, awaiting her answer, even less. "I purchased a slave today," she admitted, when she realized she had gone too long without answering. She hated the voice that left her lips, small and timid. She swallowed, trying to gather her courage as she waited for Barca to arrive and bolster her confidence. "I am not certain he was yours."

"A Gaul," the blonde man answered before the other could speak again. "A stone layer by trade, horribly unkempt. More beast than man," he said, looking her over as he subtly approached. "Does any of this bring your man to mind?"

She heard heavy footsteps approaching from behind and let out a heavy sigh of relief. "Yes," she said. "I made purchase of such a man this morning. He trains with the gladiators as we speak, should you wish to lay eyes upon him." She glanced to her side just as Barca reached her, his towering form a greater comfort than he would ever realize. "Barca would be honored to take you to the man."

Without waiting on an answer, Octavia turned curtly on her heel, flashing Barca an anxious look before beckoning the men to follow her to overlook the ludus. She gripped the edge of the balcony as she looked down on her gladiators, hoping that having something in her grips would steel her nerves. "There's your man," said the blonde one, grabbing the balcony beside her, his arm brushing against her own. Octavia swallowed and wondered if it would be cowardly to step away from his looming presence. "Who does he train with?"

"Gannicus," she answered, and as if on command, Gannicus glanced up to the balcony, looking between her and her two companions with a confused expression. "The-"

"Champion of fucking Capua," he finished, looking mildly impressed. While he might have been a fan of the games, it was apparent that his companion was not.

"Fifteen denarii is what I paid for the man, should you wish him returned to you," she said, turning her attention to Crassus, who looked the girl over with an appraising gaze before glancing to Crixus.

"He's worth no more than seven," he stated. Most of his anger had left him upon meeting the girl. He had took the purchase of his errant slave as an attempt at maneuvering him, as some sort of scheme. He hated to be manipulated, especially by a lesser man. But as he looked the girl over, he began to fear himself a paranoid old man. He never would have stormed the poor girl's villa if his man had informed him that it had been a teenage girl who made purchase.

Octavia pursed her lips, wondering what her father would have her do. If she were to purchase a man for fifteen denarii and then sell him for seven, he would be furious. But if she were to offend Marcus Crassus, a man he never would have dreamed to have in his villa to begin with … she could hardly imagine his rage. "In your hands, perhaps," she answered, deciding the eight denarii difference was too much to ignore. "But I paid fifteen for the man."

To her surprise, the blonde man chuckled, "Our lady is either stubborn or unaware as to how poor of a deal she made for the slave. What is it that about the Gaul that holds your interest?"

"I merely see the potential in him that his previous master overlooked," she said. Crassus observed her with a more stoic stare than Caesar, who still looked at her if she were a puzzle he had never tried to solve before.

It was intimidating, but she'd been around powerful men before. She'd seen her mother hold her head up high as she spoke to those above their station about the slaves. She knew she could do this, and besides, they were just men. What else were men but cocks with mouths? Crassus was looking bored, she noticed, and looked on the verge of just letting her keep Crixus.

Until Caesar spoke up, "I have an idea," he said suddenly. "Batiatus has given the crowd at least one champion, it would be unjust to assume his daughter has learned nothing of the trade. Let us give the girl of the ludus opportunity to prove herself."

"How do you mean?" Octavia asked with a narrowed gaze. Crassus mirrored that gaze as he stared down, wondering where Caesar was attempting to go.

"Let the slave fight with the champions."

Her heart lunged at the thought of it. "I've hardly had the Gaul a few hours, he couldn't possibly—"

"A week," interrupted Caesar. "Until the next games are upon us. That seems more than fair, wouldn't you agree?"

"If he survives the arena, how do I know you will press no further to have him returned to you?" she asked, looking at Crassus now. "I will not risk the man's life for empty words."

"All a man has is his word," said the blonde, his eyes remaining firmly fixed on hers, though his hands seemed to wander, exploring the material of her dress, the bracelet at her wrist. It was a weakness of men that her father had taught her to take advantage of, but she faltered before this man, uncertain of whether he was under her spell or simply preparing to crush her with his own.

"And Caesar's is worth very little," Crassus interrupted, leaving Octavia grateful for the diversion. She hesitated in her next step, looking from the first man to the second again. She had found comfort in denying to herself the idea that Marcus Crassus stood in her home, but now the other man had been named Caesar and it was becoming more difficult to lie to herself. She was beginning to feel light headed and terribly out of her depths. "Instead I offer mine."

"Terms well struck!"

Her father's voice washed over her in an awesome wave. She turned to see him rushing to join them on the balcony, her mother close behind. Her father's face held a smile, but her mother's betrayed the concern she knew both of her parents were feeling. "Batiatus," said Crassus. "I presume."

Batiatus nodded, his eyes shifting to Octavia for a brief moment before returning to Marcus Crassus. "Apologies for being unable to receive you," he said. "Pressing matters in-"

A hand raised quick as a whip cut her father off mid explanation. "None required," he said firmly, looking as if he didn't have the patience for an apology. "Terms agreed upon will grow to fruition in one week's time."

"At the games?" asked Batiatus, though his only answer came from a swift exit. Caesar hesitated only a moment after his friend, bowing a respectful head to her parents before joining his companion.

Lucretia waited only until both men appeared out of earshot before rounding on her daughter, grabbing her by both arms and inspecting her for any sign of mistreatment. "By the gods, what were they doing here," she demanded shrilly, though Octavia could not tell if she was asking Octavia herself or her father.

"I made purchase of his slave," she answered anyway, thinking it best to be forthcoming with such matters. "In the market. An errant stone layer, they meant to kill him. I made purchase instead. He trains with Gannicus presently."

Lucretia's eyes flitted down to the ludus, to where the Gaul lay flat on his back after meeting Gannicus's elbow. "You threaten that man's rage for a fucking stone layer," she hissed, more fear than anger in her voice.

"She but seizes the fucking heavens!" her father laughed, grabbing her roughly by the cheeks and planting a kiss on her forehead.

* * *

Elbow throbbing from its connection to the new recruit's rather formidable jaw, Gannicus rubbed it tenderly as he looked up to the balcony. He saw Barca standing behind the girl, but their Dominus was nowhere in sight. It was not a common thing for daughter or wife to be home absent the husband and father, and they never had guests during Batiatus's absences.

He heard the Gaul grunt as he forced himself to his feet and lunged for the more experienced gladiator. Gannicus sidestepped the man, this time bringing his elbow to Crixus's shoulder, but meriting the same result of face hitting dirt. He could hear the man groaning beneath him, but kept his eyes focused, even when he saw Batiatus and his wife appear. "Absent full attention, you still best me," Crixus said from the dirt.

Gannicus looked down to see him sitting up but clearly in no rush to make another foolish attempt. "I could best you absent a leg and both arms tied behind back," Gannicus assured him.

"It will not always be so," replied the Gaul. A chuckle emitted from the Celt's throat as he reached an arm down and pulled Crixus back to his feet. "Gratitude," said Crixus, before allowing his eyes to follow the Celt's. "The domina holds your attention," he observed.

An irritated look passed Gannicus's face as he understood the implication in the words Crixus spoke. Had there ever been such a foolish and fruitless affection? What use did Gannicus have for a woman whose touch he would forever be denied? "Put voice to accusation again and see head parted from chest."

Crixus was not sure if this was a realistic threat, given their domina's investment in him, but he could think of wiser things to do with his time than assess the validity of the man's words. "Apologies," he said. "Offense was not intended. I merely stand curious of my new master and her reasoning behind your instruction."

"Do bruises not stand answer enough?" asked Gannicus, looking the man's battered body up and down. Only a fraction of his current lacerations were courtesy of Gannicus. He jerked his head toward the balcony where Batiatus stood, overlooking his gladiators. "Your master stands the man. Octavia is but loving daughter."

"Octavia," Crixus repeated, an odd sensation spreading through him at putting a name to the face.

Gannicus looked at Crixus out of the corner of his eye. It was his own affections for the girl he had masked with accusations, Gannicus quickly realized. "She will be the death of you," he said solemnly, before abandoning a confused Crixus in favor of Oenomaus. "Fucking Gauls," he muttered to the man.

Oenomaus followed his gaze to Crixus before nodding in agreement."Our numbers swell with piss and shit."

"To be remedied swiftly."

* * *

A/N: Well damn signs of life in the Spartacus fandom! Thank you so much for your review, Vikihungergame1! I'm glad you've enjoyed it so far and hope you continue to do so! And YOU have a good day too! :P

Before someone comments that I'm an idiot for having Crassus and Caesar in a God's of the Arena era story, yes … yes, I am an idiot. An idiot who hated Tulius and Vettius and does not want to write about them. An idiot who loved Crassus and Caesar and DID want write about them but also Gannicus and came up with the solution of writing a silly fanfic to cater to both of these interests. Don't judge me for being thirsty for Spartacus characters god damn it!


	3. Chapter 3

She pulled her skirts up at the waist, a fruitless action, as she placed a sandaled foot into the sands of the ludus. She had waited for hours to be able to do so. She had waited for her parents to rise, for them to leave, for them to disappear from vision into the streets of Capua. She knew her father would never allow her to step into the ludus amongst the men. He had only permitted her to do so by his side a handful of times in her youth, and he had never allowed it when she was on her own.

This was, of course, not to say she had never done so despite his forbidding. Sometimes propriety had to make way for necessity. Sometimes her will grew a mind of its own and there was little that could stop her. How many times had she snuck into the ludus in her youth? After all had fallen to sleep. All but one.

He was always up the latest. After one of his countless victories. He spent his time in his private room, doing things Octavia had never let herself think on, before taking wine to the sands of the empty ludus. How many times had she joined him? How many firsts had she experienced at his calloused hands? Her first sip of wine, then her first bottle … her first time holding a sword, and her first cut at the end of one. She swallowed hard as she remembered his panic, his concern. The way he had clutched her thigh as he inspected the tiny little cut that still bore a scar beneath her dress.

How many other firsts had she dreamt of him taking?

She forced the thought from her mind, as if the gladiators could hear her thoughts as plainly as the wind. They would at least, she thought, be able to read the reddish hue to her cheeks. "Doctore," she called needlessly. All men upon the sand had frozen upon detecting her presence. "I would speak to Gannicus."

Gannicus followed Octavia to a shaded area of the ludus, near the wooden men. "Domina," he said, looking her over curiously as he waited to hear what had brought her to the sands.

"How does Crixus fare?"

"The man never held a sword before I placed one in hand," he informed her.

Octavia bit her lip, closing her eyes in silent frustration. "I don't suppose he has a natural talent," she murmured.

Gannicus didn't understand her concern for the new recruit. He'd never seen such attention be paid to a man absent the test. Was she merely concerned about her investment finding profit? Or had she given the Gaul a reason for his affections? "Something resembling skill could be carved from the man," he offered. "In time."

"You have less than a week before he fights in the games," said Octavia, biting the tip of her thumb as she looked past Gannicus to where Crixus sparred with Barca. He was not faring well against the spear.

"The games?" demanded Gannicus, his voice rising. "The man has not yet earned the mark!"

"Choice has been removed in the matter," she said, returning her attention to him. "All I ask is you prepare him the best you can."

"He will not last the fucking oration!" he exclaimed, his mounting frustration more evident than he ever would have let it become were Batiatus present. He stepped away from her, needing a moment to reel his anger in, but she caught his hand and prevented his easy escape.

Gannicus looked down at their hands; tan, slender, soft little fingers held a gentle grip on his bloody ones. "Words from the champion may improve chances," she said softly.

"Words from you would carry greater meaning," he replied, his eyes still focused on watching the tips of his fingers curl around hers.

"On how to combat a spear?" Octavia laughed.

Gannicus lifted his eyes to meet hers. "On reason to prolong life," he corrected.

Her heart fluttered in her chest at the look he was giving her, it was gentle, and so full of … honesty, "And … is that what gets you through a fight?" she asked with bated breath.

The smile flickered on his face in amusement and he leaned in slightly, "My Domina gives reason enough," he said. "If a week is all we have, your words would sooner benefit him than later." He nodded towards Crixus, who had fallen again and been left to wipe the blood from his lip as it seeped down his chin.

Octavia nodded, giving him one last look, wishing now, more than ever, it was only them upon sands, that the skies were dark enough to hide whatever secrets they wished to share. Alas, it was not so, she was his Domina, and he her slave, and none of the Gods in the temples could change that.

She went to Crixus as he moved himself to train with the wooden men. Octavia assumed he had not taken it upon himself to do so by the sour look on his face, but that his partner had merely grown bored and went to find an actual challenge, "Crixus," she said and he seemed to freeze for a moment before turning to her.

"Domina," he managed after a moment before scrambling up. She tried not to smile at his eagerness. That was good, she thought, perhaps it would encourage him even more.

"How goes your training?" she inquired, regardless of its necessity. He faltered and searched for the words to defend himself, but none came. "So well it leaves you absent words?" she asked, giving him a smile. He looked to her in surprise before the gentle smile crept across his face until hers faulted. "I need you to succeed."

"Yes, Domina," he said, his brow furrowed. Of course she needed him to succeed, that was why he was here in the Ludus, it wasn't to fail, it wasn't to embarrass her.

"Can you do that?" she asked. "For me?"

His eyes widened slightly at her request, "Yes, Domina," his tone was more hushed, but more eager and she pressed her lips together. Did she tell him his life was on the line? Could he feel it in the air between them?

"Yesterday against Gannicus you showed something resembling promise," she stated, willing herself not to look over her shoulder to where she knew the Celt had returned to training. "And yet today against Barca, who is, you should know, an inferior gladiator, you have spent much of the morning on your back."

His eyes found the sand again and she was beginning to wonder if she was being too harsh on him. She spoke with a gentle enough tone, yet every word of criticism seemed to hit the man like a whip. "The spear is not known to me," he admitted, gesturing to where Barca wielded his with deadly expertise.

"Then remove spear from equation," she said, not bothering to hide her exasperation. The man truly did not have a head for the games and that was nearly as important as skill with a sword. He had to have a sense for it, of what to do, of how to move, of what his opponent would do next.

"Yes, Domina," he murmured, still examining the details of her sandals.

Octavia sighed, taking the opportunity to assess the man. He looked more animal than man, with wild hair and a beard that covered half his face. It would not last long, she was certain. Gannicus seemed to be the only one able to get away with such a hairstyle, and that was likely to his status as champion. "Heed Gannicus's instructions," she commanded. "I would not have you fall from this world." By the time Crixus managed to look up, Octavia was already halfway across the ludus and Gannicus had taken her place, forcing sword back in hand.

* * *

Octavia stared through the sheer curtains that surrounded her bed in lovely lilac, as a sweet rose scent wafted through her room. It was hot, as were most nights, and even with the thin robes she wore and the lack of fabric on her bed, she felt as if she were drowning in fire.

There was no breeze, not even with as late as it was, as clear as it was, why she could even see the stars out the window, a thousand eyes staring at her and a name in them …

She rolled over to her other side and let out a sigh, forcing her eyes closed, trying to empty her mind so that she could fall asleep at last … before being shaken awake by a voice. A distant voice, but it was there, filling the silence all the same. Singing; loud, drunk singing. Irritated, she rose from her bed, grabbing an even thinner robe to throw on over her small clothes and forgetting her sandals as she stormed through the halls of the estate and towards the voice … hesitating for a breath once she realized she was heading towards the ludus.

She bit her lip before stepping through towards the sands, flexing her toes before digging them in. It was still warm from the sun beating down upon it all day, she could hear the singing more clearly now, it had really taken her no time at all in her fury, it was coming from the cliff, one of the slaves was standing before it and for a breath of a moment, she thought he meant to jump off, "… my cock rages on! My cock rages on!" she pursed her lips as she stepped closer, a touch too loudly, causing him to spin around and quiet immediately upon the sight of her.

The smile was quick to creep across her lips, "Gannicus," she greeted.

"Octavia …" he said, still seeming stunned at her presence, but that didn't stop the half grin from forming. "Apologies, Domina—"

"It is only you and I upon these sands," she said, unwilling to admit aloud how much she liked the sound of her own name when falling from his lips. "What has caused you such loud and joyous celebration that you must pull me from my bed?"

"Were my words so effective as to raise you from your slumber?"

"Sleep was not involved, it is only my bed I am parted with," she corrected.

"I would prefer to have joined you than parted you from it," he said, his smile lazy as he sauntered closer to her, stumbling only slightly in his drunken state. "You are without shoes."

"And you without shame," she said, pressing her fingers to the center of his chest in an attempt to push him away. She thought his mind slow, but did not take into consideration how quick he would move, especially now, as his hand grabbed hers quickly and pressed it closer. "Gannicus …"

"Octavia," he said again, his other hand reaching for her cheek. "Is this yet another of my dreams?" She took a sharp breath, reveling in the rough texture of his hand, years of calluses were like the finest silks at that moment. He dreamt of her?

"How often do I visit your dreams?" she inquired, studying his handsome features. How was it fair for such a man to exist so far out of her reach. If only he had been born Roman, if only he did not wear the brand of the House of Batiatus …

"More and more frequent," he admitted, stepping closer now, should she breathe too deeply, her chest would graze him. "I am sorry I have stolen you from your sleep," he muttered, moving his fingers to her temple and pushing heavy curls away from her face, and gripping the side of her head.

"I am not," she said looking up at him with big, blue eyes, pools of the cleanest water, so pure, he felt as if he would fall into them … no, not into them, but against her, he dipped low, bringing his lips gently to hers. He let a sigh slip out at how soft, how sweet she was, and even sweeter the way she tasted, more so than any wine. Her name on his tongue had always been enough until now, and even now, he knew, nothing else would ever come close.

Her tongue was hesitant, but made an attempt to part his own lips, surprising him, but pleasantly so as he deepened it even more, feeling her go weak against him. He wrapped his arms quickly around to support her, refusing to let her break away, not yet, not so soon. Her arms wrapped around his neck so tightly, were he a weaker man, he would think she meant to remove it. Her chest heaved against him, as did her hips, whether it was his doing or hers, he felt himself grow aroused at the mere thought, thoughts that only grew wilder as she whimpered.

He forced her away, "Octavia," his voice was rough and he looked down in time to see her eyes open blearily. "Apologies, I cannot … I will not—"

"I will," she insisted, attempting to wrap her arms around him again, pulling him down, attempting to kiss him once more, but he placed his hands on her shoulders and kept her hungry lips at bay. "Gannicus," his name was music on her tongue and he bit his lips with a grunt. "I see … the night grows darker by the moment … perhaps … I should get back to bed."

* * *

Gannicus woke late the next morning, long after the midday sun. A splitting headache was his only companion as he stumbled out into the sands. He spotted Batiatus above them, standing on the balcony, and felt his heart seize in his chest as memories of the night before came flooding back.

Any pleasure at the memory had faded to fear with the presence of his Dominus. Had Octavia spoken word of that night to anyone, he would be hacked into pieces. He turned his gaze from Batiatus and toward the sand, moving quickly to grab sword for practice. He nearly leapt out of his skin when Oenomaus placed hand upon his shoulder. "Has gladiator made way for frightened rabbit?" his oldest friend inquired. A chastisement for his late arousal had been on Oenomaus's tongue, but it had fallen in favor of concern.

"Octavia?" asked Gannicus upon realizing Oenomaus meant him no harm.

"Arrived with the sun," said Oenomaus, his brow furrowed. He had always known the two shared a fondness for each other, but Gannicus had never put words behind it, nor spoken the girl's name so boldly. "With mind towards Crixus."

Gannicus turned sharply, seeking to lay eyes upon the Gaul. When he spotted the man entangled with Barca, he turned back to Oenomaus. "And presently?" Oenomaus hesitated in his response, but the look on his face told Gannicus he had put foot out of line with questioning. "Never mind," he muttered, abandoning his Doctore in favor of the Gaul.

Time had never moved more slowly for Gannicus. A pain he exacerbated by checking the balcony as often as he swung his swords. Time and time again he searched for her presence and came up empty handed. Batiatus overlooked, then the wife, then the wife and a blonde woman, then Batiatus again. But he did not lay sights upon daughter, nor did he see her the next day, though he made certain to rise with the sun.

He was the first to the sands that morning and his brothers seemed surprised to see him there, but still their Domina did not make an appearance. Where had she gone to to evade him so? He could think of no time when she had ever been absent from sight for more than an afternoon.

It was on the third day when she presented herself again.

"How does Crixus fare," she murmured as she stepped beside her father, resting her arms against the balcony.

A resounding crack interrupted Batiatus before he could respond, and both shifted attention to the source. Barca stood overtop of Gannicus, grinning like a madman, with blood sprayed across his shield. Even from such a distance, Batiatus could see the blood pouring from his champion's mouth. "Better than Gannicus," he grumbled, glancing to his daughter to find her oddly disinterested in the Celt's condition. "He has been off form as of late."

"I give no shits towards Gannicus," she answered. Octavia strained to keep her eyes away from the scene where Gannicus was struggling to get back on his feet.

Batiatus laughed at that, watching as Gannicus stumbled and looked toward them again, blood staining his chin. "There was a time when that was the only name that fell from your lips," he reminded her. "Now I see it replaced with Crixus."

"The only name of concern is Crassus," said Octavia. "Will he not be impressed by transformation of rabid dog to obedient gladiator?"

"I fear his passing would be a greater blessing." Her eyes widened as she regarded her father, who had the grace to look mildly sheepish. "The Gaul best serves as an introduction to the man and all the power he has. I fear he will not react as you hope to being proven wrong about the man's potential."

"You want him to die," murmured Octavia, watching Crixus train with more vigor and dedication than any other man upon their sands. An odd feeling passed through her belly that she couldn't quite describe.

"I've made humble suggestion that the Gaul be paired against the spear," her father admitted, having observed Crixus's failings against the weapon with his own eyes. "You look disappointed. Has my daughter attempted to ignite a fire within her new favorite?"

"Purchase does not imply favoritism," she responded. "My only interests lie in the elevation of our house."

Batiatus smiled, looking almost as if he believed her. Truthfully, he knew better where his daughter was concerned. She'd always had favorites. First it had been Oenomaus, much to Batiatus's own irritation, until Gannicus arrived. Nothing and no one had torn her attention from the man in a decade. "I would not forbid such an attempt," he murmured, his eyes shifting to Gannicus, who had spent the past ten minutes looking up at the balcony. Batiatus was not fool enough to think he had anything to do with the man's attention. "Especially with Gannicus. His form fades in recent days and I would have him at his best for Crassus and Caesar."

Octavia pursed her lips, refusing to look down at the Celt below. "I fear I would fail in the task," she admitted.

Her father had a smile on his face when he looked at her, and yet Octavia knew there was little joke to the man's words. If he wished her to make attempt on Gannicus, it would be done. "I would not ask this of you if I thought it beyond your reach."

"I will set mind to purpose and see what riches can still be plucked from the man," she said, forcing a smile, before backing out of the balcony, Melitta close behind.

* * *

A/N: Yaaayyy people are actually reading this! How fun!

Special thanks to:

Vikinghungerrgame1: I'm glad you're cool with the change! Spartacus is the best when it has a good (sexy) villain. Hopefully I do the change justice and make it all make sense. Thank you for your review! :)

 _Amy, Winter Queen 15,_ and _superfaraway_ : Thank you for your reviews! It's great to know people are still thinking about the best show over and coming to read fanfics for it. :)


	4. Chapter 4

A week had come and gone in and instant and had left Octavia begging for just a few more moments. With another day, she was certain, Crixus would be ready for the challenge. His improvement in the week given was beyond words. The man stood nearly unrecognizable in skill, but she still wanted more before she had to send him into the pits of hell they called an arena.

She glanced at her father curiously, wondering if he felt the same pain upon sending his own gladiators into the arena. It only took her a moment to decide that was unlikely. Batiatus grinned upon noticing her attention and clapped a heavy and on her back. "Strike the worry from your eyes!" he commanded. "The girl could ignite fire from a fucking corpse!" He had turned his attention to Lucretia, intent on bragging upon her successes with Crixus.

It was certainly true that Crixus always increased effort toward training after their interactions. Or at least, that was what she had heard from her father. She had made concentrated effort to avoid the man, and all of his kind. She wasn't certain how long she could go in a ludus without seeing a gladiator, but she would attempt an eternity. "She has produced a man from the beast who arrived at our ludus," Lucretia agreed, giving Octavia a proud smile.

Her mother's friend Gaia, did not seem as thrilled by her accomplishments, and opened mouth to voice displeasure, but silenced herself upon arrival of more honored guests. Those already in the pulvinus stood at the presence of Marcus Crassus and Julius Caesar, but Crassus waved a brief, impatient hand that ordered them to be seated.

Octavia couldn't help but think he looked terribly annoyed to even be there. She wondered if he was just of a generally unpleasant disposition or if he hated the games. She thought better against asking the man as he took the seat in front of her, and Caesar took a seat in front of Gaia. Crassus glanced to Caesar, asking silently why he had left a seat between them. "The girl has more invested than any of us, should she not have a seat with a view of the proceedings?" asked Caesar.

A summoning jerk of the hand was Crassus's response, and Octavia was quick to her feet, shooting her father an anxious look as she stepped to the front of the pulvinus and took her place in between Crassus and Caesar. "Gratitude," she murmured, keeping her eyes fixed on the sands below them.

Caesar watched her through the first of the fights. A few disposable slaves with dreams of becoming something more, only to fall to blade or spear quickly, moistening the sand with blood, making it more worthy for other more skilled men.

She was bored through that, having grown up in the ludus, she must've seen blood everyday, seen it shed, seen men die, lose limbs, become disfigured more often than most women her age. It wasn't until her stone layer turned gladiator stepped upon the sand the she showed any signs of interest. "Ah, and who will he be taking on, Batiatus?" Caesar asked curiously.

"Auctus is his name," said her father, not hesitating in taking the opportunity to lean closer to the men of import. "Deadly with a spear."

Octavia's stomach plummeted at the realization of his opponent. Auctus was considered near the top of her father's gladiators, having spent years training and honing his skills in the ludus. How could Crixus possibly hope to compete?

Auctus made the first move and she felt herself jerk forward slightly as Crixus blocked the jab, knocking the spear out of his way only to swing around and attempt to bring the blade down on his opponent, but that was blocked by the small shield. This went on, a jab here, a block there, shouts and yells, tumbles and rolls. She watched on with bated breath, though she was unable to tear her gaze away.

She gasped slightly when blood finally spilled, a long gash across Crixus' chest that sprayed the sands. A shout that rang through her ears, but he did not slow. He swung his blade hard and deep, catching Auctus by the shoulder and earning his own pained scream.

He smiled, seeming to have new strength from the shout, he swung the blade again, blocking another shot, swinging hard, knocking the shield away, swinging back so hard he broke the spear in half, brought his blade up high, kicked Auctus in the chest, throwing him to the sands and brought his blade to the man's chest before pausing, looking up to the pulvinus and waiting.

Octavia forced a smile from her face as she glanced over to Crassus, knowing he would be the one to make the decision. Would he spare the man? No, she thought. The man was not known for a gentle hand. He would let the man die for his failure. But Crassus did not stand.

Instead, he turned his gaze on her. "The man stands your gladiator, does he not?" he asked. Octavia swallowed, sensing Marcus Crassus was not even remotely pleased with the way the battle had ended. "The decision is yours."

She had never been given the decision before. Her father had always passed it off on more loftier guests to the pulvinus, or had kept the honor for himself. She felt oddly unsure of herself as she stepped to the edge of the pulvinus and looked down, feeling Crixus's eyes upon her. Normally, Octavia would lean in favor of life, to let the men train and fight another day. But she feared her mercy would be viewed as weakness from the men who stood behind her. They would mistake her generosity as inability to take a life. She would not allow them this mistake.

She shifted her thumb downwards, and in an instant, Crixus shoved his sword with such force into Auctus's throat, blood spewed upward and splashed his knee. As fast as he had planted it, Crixus uprooted the blade, letting the tip of it find her as he lowered his eyes in deference. The crowd erupted with the display of blood and Octavia found her chair again. "Memory of your heel has long faded, Marcus," Caesar said from beside her, amusement evident in his tone. "The Gaul has found a new master."

Octavia felt her face grow hot as she kept her eyes toward the sand, watching as the dragged the lifeless corpse from the arena. "He but honors the girl," said Marcus. "Who forged gold from shit. The man will remain to you, where he serves far greater purpose."

"Gratitude, well received!" called Batiatus from behind them, gesturing for Melitta and Naevia to fill cups with wine in celebration.

Crassus held up a hand to stop him, before finding his feet. "We move toward more pressing matters," he stated. "Far from the stench of the arena."

Batiatus nodded humbly, knowing better than to stop a senator of Rome from doing whatever he pleased. Caesar, however, was far more insolent. Where Crassus moved to leave the pulvinus, Caesar remained firmly seated. "You would have me miss the primus?" he asked, when Crassus turned on him with agitation.

"You show favor for the champion of Capua?" Crassus inquired, trying not to appear too displeased at his friends lack of movement.

"I have intrigue," Caesar said. "Words have often broken about Gannicus, I would see that they are not false." Crassus looked to Caesar, his eyes willing him to change his mind. Caesar was already looking to the Gladiators that were not walking into the arena as the crowd roared for them to begin and Caesar beamed.

Crassus sat down, back straight, jaw set, waiting for the match to be over. Octavia watched as he did so and considered taking a similar position. She would not show any particular interest in this match, at least, she would do what she could to show indifference. Seeing Gannicus fight was something she had done on many occasions. He was their champion, he was her champion, a thought that made her heart quiver.

Gannicus raised his swords, that familiar smile on his face, playful and arrogant. She pursed her lips when his gaze fell on her for a moment before turning to his own opponent. Her breath caught in her chest at the sight of him, one of Solonius's men, she recognized. A beast of a man, at least twice the size of Gannicus with a war hammer clutched in his massive grip. She thought she heard a trail of curses flow from her father's lips from behind her, and lost any thought of appearing indifferent.

Though she was cross with the slave, she did not wish him death, "The Gods have blessed us with an excellent opportunity to witness Gannicus's skill," Caesar said, looking almost as a child with a new toy. Octavia barely had a moment to glance at him in acknowledgement before hearing the clash of metal on metal,her gaze setting firmly on the fight below.

Which seemed to go on forever, as more and more blood sprayed the ground from both men, cuts and gashes, though Gannicus stood as quickly as the larger man, who fell ever harder upon the ground with each counter blow Gannicus gave. And still the crowd roared, regardless of length, or time it took for the men to exhaust themselves, until the large man over swung, and lost footing with a slice of Gannicus's blade on his heel and across the man's belly, spilling what was once inside upon the ground.

One last slash came as the man fell to his knee, giving Gannicus a clear shot of his throat which he slashed across without a breath of hesitation.

The crowd chanted his name over and over again, louder each time, it seemed, and Octavia struggled to keep the smile from her lips as she looked upon the bloodied and bruised champion of Capua below, who was raising his blade to the pulvinus and directing it firmly at her.

It was a wonder, Caesar thought, that a girl of so few years could stand so composed after such an honor. The Gaul had been almost expected. She was the only reason he yet stood among the livings. It was proper tribute to honor her after his first victory in the arena. But Gannicus … Gannicus had stood the Champion of Capua for more years than would allow the girl to have anything to do with his current standing. Batiatus stood the man's true dominus, and yet the man himself favored the girl.

Batiatus paid no mind to the insult, and chose instead to celebrate the further swelling of his purse. "Do all gladiators hold you in such high favor?" Caesar inquired, leaning closely to the girl so that she would be the only one privy to the question.

"He honors his domina," said Octavia. "As all slaves should."

"I had thought your father the lanista," Caesar replied. "Does the man stand but humble puppet under your charge?"

Octavia shook her head curtly. "My father stands the best lanista in all of Rome."

"Ah, but there is something your father lacks, as well as Crassus," Caesar said, moving himself impossibly closer. Octavia shifted uncomfortably, willing Crassus himself to grow impatient with the games again, to demand a swift exit for the two of them. No such order came as Caesar's fingers trailed lightly down her arm. "Clenched fist is but pale shade of control in comparison to the gentle touch of a woman, is it not?"

"You speak with more authority on the matter than I could muster," she said, watching as his fingers found her own. He was an unpredictable man, she thought, and wasn't certain if his hands searched for gentle embrace or moved to crush the bones in her own. "I fear I am not given ample time with slaves to test such a theory."

Caesar's fingers froze as the words left her lips, and then he removed himself entirely. "A situation to be remedied," he said with a smile.

Octavia forced a smile as the man stood, followed by his friend. Her father caused them to pause, offering invitation to celebrate the victories of the day. She swallowed back any words of protest she might've offered. Her father would do anything to elevate their house, regardless of cost or daughter's concerns.

* * *

The morning and afternoon were spent preparing. She spent several hours being bathed, preened, tweezed, braided, perfumed, powdered, dressed and then undressed when her mother did not find the first gown suitable. The rest of the house prepared by cleaning and hanging silks, lighting candles and sconces along walls.

Slaves scurried about with food and wine, golden goblets and plates prepared and setup, while more important ones, more beautiful ones were cleaned, painted and prepared in their own respects.

The dress was lovely, she thought to herself, running her fingers over the soft fabric as she often found herself doing out of habit. Ever since she was but a girl, her fingers would find the silks and satins and wools her mother and father would wear or wrap her in. This color, though, was new to her and she smiled to herself and Melitta adjusted the belt around her waist, while she herself ran her fingers up the long dip of the neckline against her chest where a thin gold chain hung.

"You grow more and more beautiful by the day, Domina," she sighed, reaching for a comb and running it through her hair.

"How often have you broke those same words?"

"And yet each time, they are held true," Melitta said with a smile. "Come, your absence will not go unnoticed." Octavia nodded, following the slave out of her room, the scent of roses trailing behind her as the lighter blue at the bottom of her dress danced around her feet, fading up to the darker blue at her breasts.

She could hear the chatter from the main rooms, the splash of water from fountains she was familiar with was drowned by them. She hesitated only once when the gladiators lined the wall she walked past, her gaze falling on Gannicus. She couldn't remember the last time he had appeared cleaned, and could not deny it wasn't an altogether unpleasant site.

"Octavia!" her father's voice called, denying her even the idea of hesitating to speak to him.

She turned her attention to her father, who waved her over to a more controlled portion of the party. A smaller area draped in silks, meant to offer privacy to those her parents deemed most honored guests. Tonight, their numbers swelled. Caesar caught her eye first, with Crassus not far removed from the man. Gaia was present, along with her prospective husband,Varis, and his friend, Cossutius. There were a handful of other Romans whose names she couldn't recall, but she was certain were of great import. Only good Solonius seemed out of place among the crowd, but she was certain her father had reason for his invitation.

"I had begun to question if it were not past the girl's bedtime," Gaia greeted, a smile upon her lips that could make flowers wilt.

"It is," Octavia replied politely. Caesar made great showing of moving from Crassus's side to make a space for her to sit, which Octavia promptly ignored, in favor of squeezing between Gaia and her father. "But the presence of such cherished friends was enough to keep me from it."

"A sentiment well received," said Gaia, placing wet kiss upon Octavia's cheek before raising her cup of wine, the rest among them following suit.

Octavia felt as if she could breathe again once attention had shifted from her. Such a comfort was not one Caesar would afford her. "Is the little one not to partake in drink?" he wondered.

Her father gestured for Melitta to fill her cup but Octavia held up a hand to stop the woman. "I do not care for honey in my wine. It serves only to mask bitter taste." Something she had heard Gannicus say, upon a time. A sentiment she did not particularly share, but she did not want to be plied with honeyed wine and robbed of her senses.

"A beautiful coincidence," said Caesar. "Nor do I."

Octavia had little power to refuse the man when he offered his own goblet, and it took all within her not to wince when the bitter liquid burned down her throat. "Gratitude," she grumbled, shooting him a dirty look when his attention shifted for the briefest moment to newly arrived guests.

She followed his gaze to find Gannicus now among them, and Crixus at heel.

"The Celt in the flesh," said Caesar. "Words of his prowess in the arena were not inflated."

"He's been but a cock in my ass if not for my daughter," admitted Batiatus. Gannicus only seemed to train on the days that Octavia was present. His only motivation to leave the shade was if she happened to be watching. "She does seem to have her way with the slaves. She whispers words unknown and they fall to her as if under a spell."

"A gift," said Crassus. "To be sure."

"He is of a form," Gaia said. "I heard he had fell victim to many cuts. He looks near perfect condition."

"Let your hands explore what your eyes long to," Lucretia said and Octavia straightened slightly, meeting Gannicus's uneasy gaze for but a fraction of a moment. Gaia did not need persuading and stood, approaching the gladiator and letting her gaze wander around him. She glanced at Crixus as well.

"A Gaul you say," she said. "He looks as if a beast, wild and unkempt. How do you fall upon such luck?" She ran her hands across Crixus, his chest, his abs, the cloth about his waist, lingering as if she were curious of more than what was readily on display.

"One cannot help if the gods show favor to the House of Batiatus," Octavia said taking a sip of wine as Caesar yet again lent her his cup. She bit the tip of her tongue to stop herself from cringing. "One champion might suit us for now, but we shan't deprive ourselves should he fall."

"You think Crixus to stand his equal?" asked Crassus.

"I think he shows great potential of becoming the new champion of our great Ludus," she said with so much confidence Gannicus looked to her with narrowed gaze.

"You say such things to the champion who honored you in the arena?" Caesar asked. "Over his own Lanista? A crueler woman there must not have ever been. What has the man done but defend you on the sands?" Octavia glanced lazily over to Gannicus, meeting his gaze passively if not only to show him her indifference.

"And I am honored," she said firmly. "He should be granted many pleasures for the honors he has brought us, as he often is," she said.

"He performed so well today, perhaps we can think of something special for him. Tonight is a special occasion, is it not?" Caesar said.

"He is welcome to whatever wine, or slave he wishes," Batiatus said. "He need but speak the word!"

"No, not just any slave," Gaia said, standing before Gannicus and looking him over, wine clutched in her hand and smirk upon her lips. "On such an occasion, champion, is there something you long for?"

Gannicus glanced to Octavia and was received with warning gaze that forced his own to the floor beneath them. "I but wish to … honor the House of Batiatus," he muttered, glancing to Octavia again, as if checking to see that those were the words that should've fallen from his lips.

"The man speaks with false tongue," said Varis, though the entire room knew it. Words had never been spoken with less conviction.

"And yet eyes hold truth," Caesar observed, an odd look on his face as he watched Gannicus closely. He could count on one hand the number of moments the Celt's eyes had found anyone but the girl. He found a certain pleasure in his assumptions proving correct, as well as a certain irritation.

Batiatus had noticed the same looks exchanged between daughter and slave over the years, and had deemed them harmless. What young girl when so sheltered would not take an interest in the Champion of Capua? What gladiator would not fall prey to the only gentle touch ever shown to him? He had never thought such affections would lead him to his current situation. "Put voice to desire," urged Gaia, her hand once against trailing down his chest, "and see it quenched."

Octavia held her breath as those among her waited for answer to fall from tongue. Gannicus had long since learned to control his gaze, keeping it firmly fixed on the woman who stood in front of him, but he offered her no answer. "You have an errant slave on your hands, Batiatus," said Caesar, taking to his feet alongside Gaia. "A wound best healed before it begins to fester."

"Gannicus," her father warned, and Octavia's heart sank. Her father was her last line of defense. If he had no intention of quelling the rising storm, no one would. Octavia found her eyes wandering past Caesar, to where Crixus stood, his arms in chains, where Gannicus stood freely. She found herself wishing she had slipped the man a dagger, so he may plunge it into Caesar's back. "Seize fucking wit and find voice toward desires!"

And yet, Gannicus remained steadfast in his decision not to speak. He looked as if he hadn't heard Batiatus give command, and had no notice of the Roman man behind him growing more angry by the minute. Unaccustomed to being denied anything, by anyone, let alone by some fucking slave, Caesar turned look of wrath upon Batiatus instead. "Gannicus," she spoke quickly, before her father could fully rise, before the guards could be called, before Oenomaus and his whip were commanded to deal with the disobedient slave. "Given free choice, what in this world do you desire most?"

"You, Domina," came the simple reply.

It was an answer she had expected, but it still hit her with considerable force. Ignoring the feeling in her belly, she shifted her gaze to Caesar. "The wound has been tended," she stated. "Put mind at ease and reclaim seat."

"Ah, we are all but humble slaves at your command," was Caesar's reply. He flashed her a smile as he fell into his seat next to Crassus once again. For a brief, foolish moment, Octavia thought perhaps that it was over. That lasted only until Caesar looked to her father again. "I believe the man was promised a swift answer to desire."

Octavia opened her mouth, unable to find the words to argue with the Roman who put a hand on her back to encourage her to rise. Gaia appeared elated as she grabbed Gannicus's wrist and pulled him forward as well, to the middle of the small crowd of people that Octavia was quickly joining him in.

"Caesar, surely—" Batiatus tried.

"Where is your honor?" Caesar asked with a laugh. Lucretia was gripping Batiatus's wrist, her nails digging into it, but words failed her as well as they watched their daughter stand before a man twice her size. Even when she turned to them with pleading eyes, they did nothing as Caesar's words continued to move things along swiftly.

"Remove your cloth," Caesar commanded of the gladiator, who clenched his jaw and hesitated a moment too long. "Gaia, it seems wit has left him, why not lend him your hands," Gaia did not hesitate, eager to feast her own gaze on what the Celt had to offer. She backed off once it had dropped, completing the circle around the pair.

"Domina," Gannicus muttered to her, locking her gaze with his.

"She is yours to take, Gannicus, Champion of Capua, let it be done before the girl falls asleep," his voice was commanding, though his words seemed playful. He shifted in his seat in annoyance when the continued to hesitate. "Perhaps a demonstration is in order, a more willing slave to show him where to place his cock?"

"Fall to command, Gannicus," Octavia urged.

* * *

 **A/N:** Ugh that chapter was a pain in the ass to edit. I forgot how horribly written it was. Run on sentences for daaaays. There is probably only enough content already written for one more chapter, which I will likely put out this week. After that, I'm afraid my posting times will take much longer as I'll have to actually write instead of just editing.

(PS because editing this made me want to kms, I didn't do the best job. It's probably not the best written work you will ever find on my page. Sorry :D)

Special thanks to:

 _ **HelloWorld:**_ Fortunately for you, I've never had any intention of putting Octavia with Crixus! His fascination with her is purely because she saved him and has shown him the only gentle touch he's ever known. He'll be with Naevia when the time comes. I'm glad you enjoyed the story, here's the update you asked for! :)

 _ **Vikihungerrgame1:**_ Yes, I could tell which review was yours! :P I'm glad you're supporting the ship SS Gannicavia? Octavius? Don't worry about them suffering - it wouldn't be a Spartacus fanfic without a bit of misery. Thanks for the review, I really appreciate it! :)


	5. Chapter 5

"You have not ..." Gannicus attempted, but found himself unable to finish the thought. She had never laid with a man before, she knew was the end to that sentence. A fact well known to her, but choice had been stripped from her hands and if she had little choice, he had even less. They were all mere playthings in the hands of Gaius Julius Caesar. What could a simple lanista do to refuse the desires of such a man? A man more than capable of destroying everything they held dear should he be denied.

Octavia wrapped her hands around his neck and pulled him down. She brought her lips to his ear and whispered, "Then be gentle." She could feel him swallow what was left of his refusals before nodding and bringing his lips to her neck. She let out a slow stream of breath; her heart pounding in her chest so loud, she was certain all those around them could hear it. As he slipped her dress over her shoulders and kissed down her neck, she let out a sigh, running trembling hands through his hair, the gazes of everyone around them hard on her.

He brought a hand to her exposed breast in an attempt to arouse her, but the more naked she became, the more she trembled. He relieved her of her weight, aiding her down to the ground with one arm around her waist and as he kissed down her chest. She stole a glance and met Caesar's gaze.

He was watching with wild intent, moistening his lips before taking a long draw of wine. She let out a whimper, turning her gaze to the ceilings as tears burned in her eyes. Gannicus appeared, blurry in front of her, pressing his forehead to hers and brushing his lips against hers briefly before kissing her temple and her ear, "There is only us, Octavia." One of his hands was running up her thigh. "There is only me, touching only you. Do not give your gaze to him, give it only to me," he said and her heart fluttered as she nodded, relaxing in his embrace as he shifted her skirts around her waist and parted her thighs.

It hurt. That was her first experience, but Gannicus whispered prayers of apology to her and moved gently until it faded. And it did fade, she realized, and Gannicus was above her, moving as slowly as she wanted. Her heart was racing for another reason, her clenched hands were relaxing, and her tightly closed eyes were slowly opening.

She looked up at Gannicus to see sweat beading his brow, his jaw clenched in concentration. She reached up, touching his cheek, stealing his gaze for a moment. She gave him the briefest of nods before shifting her own hips into him, receiving a short moan of pleasure in reply. He moved with more purpose now as she let her own gasps pass her lips. It was Gannicus above her, as she had always dreamed it would be. Gannicus touching her gently, stroking her in places she had always longed to be touched.

Her hands clawed his back, her own back arching in approval. Her eyes shot open at the sudden overwhelming pleasure that coursed through her body, causing her to tremble beneath him, forcing him to shudder soon after. Their breath came heavy in unison, and it was all she could hear until the clapping broke through. Her eyes widened in horror as Gannicus slowly withdrew himself from her, helping her up as gently as he could.

"Domina?" he asked.

"I'm fine," she said, pull the straps of her gown back over her shoulders.

Turning her gaze from Gannicus proved a mistake, when her eyes met Caesar instead. Octavia expected him to be the first to speak, to offer appreciation for her performance, but the man sat silent, his eyes never leaving hers. It was Gaia who spoke first. "If only all men fucked with such purpose," she murmured, casting her husband a teasing gaze.

"A sentiment shared by all women," another voice followed, but Octavia couldn't tell who'd spoken. As those around her fell to laughter and praise upon their performance, Octavia felt herself grow sick. How long could she sit there, among them, like some fucking animal on display?

"Melitta," she called, grimacing when her voice betrayed the desperation she felt. Gannicus had tried to remove himself from the girl as much as possible, in hopes of avoiding request for repetition, but turned to her again upon hearing such a feeble voice come from a girl so prone to firm command.

Melitta was on her in an instant, warm, soft arms wrapping around her as the woman helped her to her feet. Octavia could feel every eye in the room upon her and wondered if the slave woman would be bold enough to tear her from their grasp. "As she said," she heard her father's voice say, "it is long past the girl's bedtime."

"The girl has served as play thing for long enough," said Crassus, casting Caesar a chastising look that caused the man to smile.

Melitta did not need further permission to swiftly drag Octavia from present company, shoving past Crixus on their exit. It was only when they were removed to empty hall that Melitta slowed in favor of comforting embrace. Octavia had not imagined such a small woman capable of the strength her embrace currently carried, and it threatened to cause bodily harm. "Melitta," she murmured, placing a small hand upon the woman's shoulder. "If you embrace me any tighter, I may no longer find myself among the living."

"Apologies, domina," Melitta replied, wiping at her eyes as she released her master and took a small step back.

"None … required," Octavia muttered awkwardly, unsure of how to speak to the woman who appeared to be shedding tears on her behalf. She wondered why her eyes did not threaten to spill, as well. She had been on the verge a few moments ago, but could breathe again now that she was so far removed. "I would see memory of this night washed from skin."

Melitta nodded, biting down hard on a lip that yet trembled. She grabbed hold of Octavia's hand, as if fearing one of the Romans may reappear and decide they were not yet done with the girl, and led her to the bath. Melitta could not tear eyes from her domina as water was drawn. She could think of no time in her sixteen years where Octavia had been so still. She had not made a movement since arriving, and had found a particularly interesting crack in the floor that she had yet to look away from. "Domina," she called gently, pulling the girl from her own head.

"Something I had always wanted," Octavia murmured distractedly, mistaking Melitta's concern for announcing that her bath was ready. She let out a sharp gasp as she stepped into the water and found it too hot. "It was not so long ago you spoke of hastening the moment," she said, flashing Melitta as smile as she stepped deeper into the tub.

Melitta sat at the edge of the pool, watching Octavia closely. "We do what we must in the house," she said. "The memory will fade with time, as do all things born of misfortune."

"Misfortune?" asked Octavia. Had it been misfortune? She still felt a fluttering in her chest when she thought of Gannicus. It was only when thoughts drifted to Julius Caesar, or loving parents, that fluttering feeling became more grievous. "I had not thought my father to agree," she admitted. She knew it was beyond his power to refuse Caesar, but she still thought he might. "My mother …" She had heard not a word from Lucretia during or after her performance.

Melitta stared down at her in silence until Octavia glanced up at her, "She is not ..." she tried, pouring pitchers of milk and honey into the tub. Octavia sighed and relaxed against the edge of the tub, letting the hot water scorch the Roman looks from her skin. "Your mother is …"

Melitta dipped the sponge in the water and began gliding it against the girls bare shoulders, "He was kind," Octavia muttered to her slave, seemingly moving on to a new subject as Melitta yet struggled from the last, playing with the swirls of milk in the water.

"Put memory from your mind, and look to memories to come," Melitta insisted. "Gannicus will remember his place, it would do you well to remember yours."

"What am I now?" she asked. "A toy for Romans to taunt?"

"A beauty for us to behold," a voice called from the archway. Melitta and Octavia jumped in unison and looked to the source. The water around her suddenly felt very cold around as Julius Caesar leaned against the marble with that same wicked smirk he had worn not an hour before. "Shame you felt need to part so soon."

"She is still a child," Melitta explained, standing straight. "One who must get rest."

"Not before she bathes, it would seem," he said, walking closer to the tub. "Apologies, if my desires have brought you ill comfort. No harm was intended." Octavia swallowed as she stared up at him.

"She needs rest," Melitta insisted. "Your presence will be missed—" Octavia squeezed her hands into fists and tried to sink into the water, hoping she could disappear into the waters and out of Caesar's wandering eyes.

"My presence should be of little concern to you," Caesar said, his tone cold, though his gaze was kind. "Presence of wine in my hand should take precedence, now make it so."

Melitta looked as if she were going to ignore him, but a powerful step forward had Octavia muttering, "Go." Melitta looked down at Octavia, a furrowed brow and tight frown. "Now, so you may return sooner." Melitta skittered off quickly, leaving the bath room and disappearing from sight. Caesar watched after her before turning back to Octavia, who, once again, felt more vulnerable than she had in her entire life.

"I have seen men of the senate cower before Marcus Crassus," said Caesar, turning his back on her as he walked around the pool again. "Not you," he added, glancing back at her. He snapped his fingers and a handful of her own slaves found him, making quick work of removing his armor. "Why now do you shrink before Caesar?"

Octavia watched him carefully as her slaves stripped him of the rest of his clothing. "Crassus has brought me no harm," she murmured. Caesar looked to her in surprise and her gaze quickly shifted to the water.

"Have I?"

She flinched when the water around her splashed. Why had she sent Melitta off? Why had her father allowed Caesar to wander their villa freely? "I have found myself at your mercy more than once," she grumbled.

Caesar was grateful she seemed incapable of meeting his gaze, for it prevented her from seeing the smile that might've deterred from the sincerity of his words. "A man often falls victim to his own desires," he admitted. "Apologies that I have not controlled mine better."

"A thing of little note, given your imminent return to Rome," replied Octavia. How long could such men truly dawdle in a city such as Capua? They had more important tasks to attend to, and more important people to torment.

Octavia nearly leapt out of her skin when she felt a hand brush against her own. He had been on the other side of the bath the last time she had looked upon him. How had he approached so silently? She clutched her fingers into a fist and pulled it up to her chest, over her rapidly beating heart. "I would not have you fear me," he said, gently enough she did not mistake it for a command, as most things Caesar said were.

"And I would have you clothed," she said carefully, daring to glance up into his smirking face in time to see him chuckle. "You mock me?" she inquired.

"Never," he said, touching her cheek, her shoulder. "Apologies, your beauty has me enamored. To touch you is to verify existence."

"You speak kindly, but your gaze speaks perversely," she said.

"Allow me to be more clear," he said, slipping his hand beneath her arm and cupping her breast. She jolted back, pressing against the side of the bath, wincing when her head struck the edge. "Relax," he suggested, reaching around her neck, taking a handful of hair. "I'll not have you spill any more blood," he said.

"Any more?" she regretted instantly, her face turning red. She had been warned, of course. Sex was not a foreign concept, and she'd witnessed plenty of slave girls to know what happened the first time. Gannicus had merely made her feel less pain, he had shown her what it truly was meant to be. Her heart swelled in her chest despite the situation.

"Does the thought still thrill you?" he asked. "I was unaware you were still pure. Though it seems you have recovered quickly. Does thought of the Celt still bring you to desire?" he asked, slipping his hand away from her breast and into the water.

"No," she insisted, slinking to the side, only to have him grab her wrist and pull her in. He brought her close and she attempted to put her arm between them, clutching her opposing shoulder. "Melitta will return soon—"

"Then I will send her off again," he said, leaning close to Octavia, his eyes narrowed as if studying her, every bit of her, from the crook of her neck, to her collar and her chest. He even went so far as to run his thumb across the moles on her shoulders. "Again, I will not have you fear me."

"Presently, I feel more displeased," she admitted and he laughed again, throwing his head back slightly. "You mock my feelings again and insist on telling me which to feel."

"I insist on what you shouldn't feel," he corrected. "I request that you relax." Octavia felt her frustrations growing along with the beating of her heart.

"CAESAR!"

The voice cracked like a whip, challenging anyone to ignore it. Octavia felt the hairs on the back of her neck prick up, and the anger wasn't even directed at her. Caesar himself seemed less impressed, letting his eyes roll back into his head before looking over his shoulder. "Marcus," he replied, glancing to see the girl's body slave standing beside the man. He had to admit, he was impressed by her tenacity in protecting her domina.

"See her dressed," Crassus commanded, waving Melitta forward.

Caesar contemplated not relinquishing his hold on the girl. What would Crassus do? But then he felt a tiny hand on his chest, pushing him away weakly. He obliged her, taking a step back and watching as the slave girl pulled her from the bath and wrapped her up in something.

Octavia paused next to Crassus before fleeing. She nodded to him and nodded to Caesar in turn. "Gratitude for your attendance," she said so quickly neither man was quite certain they had heard her correctly. And with that, she was gone.

"You could not have waited?" asked Caesar, sinking down into the water with an air of insolence.

"You have kept me from Rome," Crassus began slowly, "because of this child." It was not a question, but rather an observation Crassus cursed himself for taking so long to notice. The smile that passed Caesar's face was enough to make Crassus consider wading into the waters himself to strike the belligerent fool. "This ends now. We move to Rome at morning light."

"You move to Rome," he corrected. "My time here is not at an end."

"Gaius-"

"She thinks me a monster," Caesar interrupted.

Crassus could not recall the last time he had seen his friend sulk in such a way. It had been many years, when he had been but a boy. "The girl has a discerning eye for truer nature," he replied, feeling almost sympathetic. Where women were concerned, Crassus thought it best to keep them in the dark as often as possible. Gentle hearts, and all that. Perhaps being surrounded by the beasts in her father's ludus had enlightened the girl to how men were. "A skill your wife in Rome does not possess. Get yourself dressed. We shall seek her out presently."

* * *

 **A/N:** Aaaaandddd now it comes to an end. Unfortunately, this is all we ever wrote for this story. If I post any chapters in the future (which I probably will), they will take considerably longer to write.

Special thanks to:

 _ **Guest:**_ I'm glad you enjoyed it! There's definitely a huge (painful) lack of Spartacus fanfiction on here. Write and post some of your own for me to read. :P Thanks for the review!

 _ **Vikihungerrgame1:**_ Hahahahah it wouldn't be Caesar if he didn't come in and ruin things! I also hated the scene in the show (and the Melitta/Gannicus pairing, to be honest) but it fit too well for us to not use it. As for Gaia, I'll be totally honest - when my friend and I wrote this, we wrote it as a meshing of all the seasons, so Spartacus was there, for example, and so was Ilithyia. For the purposes of making this something not god awful to read, I removed all traces of Blood and Sand, but a lot of Ilithyia's lines had to be given to Gaia. I actually loved Gaia and now that you've mentioned she seems that way, I feel compelled to write a scene of redemption for her. Thanks, as always, for the review! :)

 _ **HelloWorld:**_ Haha I love how protective you seem of Octavia! Unfortunately Octavia is not special in the grand scheme of things. Especially not when it comes to the desires of people like Caesar and Crassus. Remember, at some point Caesar will literally rule all of Rome - a lanista from Capua has no power to stop him, though Batiatus certainly wanted to. He didn't want to have Varro killed and yet he had to for the son of a magistrate. The richest senator in the republic and a man considered to be descended from a God are much more difficult to contend with.

Everyone talking about Gaia like this makes me feel so bad! As I said above, a lot her lines were originally for Iliythia, which is why she seems so awful. She'll have a redemption scene soon, damn it. As for your other unfinished comment … I don't know where it was going, but if it was heading for Spartacus and Gannicus having public sex …. I'm down. :P Thanks for the reviews!


	6. Chapter 6

Octavia found difficulty sleeping once again. In her dreams she was being held, caressed or pleasured by Gannicus. Her body felt hot at the thought of him, the feeling he left within her and the first time she woke up panting and aching to have him once more. Then she'd drift off again and she'd see the eyes of the Romans watching them, staring, wide eyed while the room filled with laughter and wine spilled to the floor. It spread out, engulfing her, and began to look terribly like blood as it filled the room, drowning everyone as she and Gannicus fought to stay afloat until he finally sank beneath it.

She thrashed around, alone, until a cool hand grabbed her wrist and she looked up to find Caesar, with large black wings, pulling her from certain demise, before immediately releasing her, laying her gently on a bed of more feathers. Her heart pounded as he hovered over her, running his fingers across her naked skin, making her tremble and whimper, but it was no longer out of fear. He was awakening a desire within her as well and that scared her more than anything; the idea of him touching her, kissing her, trailing his lips across her neck, her chest, her stomach, light as feathers as they grazed her hips and thighs.

She woke with a sudden start as Melitta pressed cool fingers to her head. Her eyes fluttered open to see the body slave, staring down with a stitched brow. Octavia felt ashamed for some reason, thinking about Caesar, dreaming about Gannicus and what he had done to her. "Are you well, Domina?" Melitta asked gently.

"Yes," she insisted, though it wasn't entirely true. She felt a certain pressure at the apex of her legs and a burning, but she assumed it was normal. It was always supposed to hurt the first time, regardless of how gentle he'd been. "Should I not be?"

"Come, up. You need to be dressed."

"For what reason?" asked Octavia, wincing as she sat up. She was sore, but she tried to hide it from Melitta. The slave had always fussed over her much more than her mother ever had.

"Because you're a woman now," a new voice called, and Octavia looked past Melitta to where Gaia had entered her room, her mother following closely behind. She winced again as Gaia pulled back her silk curtains, letting the full intensity of the sun wash over her. "Did you really hope to lounge in bed until midday?"

Lucretia was oddly quiet as she remained on the outskirts of her daughter's room, seemingly unsure of her place and how she should speak to her child after the previous night's events. "A late start would not have been ill received," admitted Octavia, but she made no further protest as Gaia pushed past Melitta and sat on the of Octavia's bed.

"Now is when your life begins, little one," the older woman said, grabbing Octavia's much tanner hand within her own. Octavia looked down at them, marveling at how the woman was at least twenty years older but had hands a thousand times more delicate than hers could ever be. "Foolish little girls are often at the mercy of powerful men, but a beautiful young woman can pull a very powerful man along like a puppet on a string."

Gaia, she was certain, could do just that. But Octavia could barely maneuver slaves to her will, there was nothing she could do in Caesar's wake but try to survive it. "You have seen first hand how your father and I have struggled over the years," said Lucretia, calling all eyes to her. "You would not know these struggles with Julius Caesar."

"There is no limit to how high that man will rise," continued Gaia. "There are whispers he remains within the marketplace today but will return for Rome by nightfall. There is but one reason he remains within Capua."

"If you wish to remain in bed, I will send Naevia with your breakfast and we will never speak of this again," said Lucretia, wringing her hands together. "The decision is yours."

Octavia could only gape at her, realizing how guilt ridden her mother must be for her to say so. She imagined the reason her father was not currently present was his own inability to grant her choice in the matter. "Of course it's her choice," Gaia said, still gently stroking her hand. "But, of course, she may come to regret that choice in five years time when she's got a poor merchant for a husband and half a dozen children with no more than a handful of slaves to tend to them." Octavia cut the woman a dirty look, unable to hide it. "I only speak from tragic experience, darling. It is a terrible thing to be alone in this world but it is not much better to be with a man who cannot take care of you."

Her dream from the night before came to mind. The panic as she drowned in the blood with no one there to save her, and the relief that sight of Caesar brought. How assured of himself he had seemed, unconcerned with the toxic pool of blood, as if his legs were too long for him to drown in it, as if her shoulders were too broad and strong to let her succumb. It had to have meant something, she thought, some sort of sign from the gods. But she couldn't ask her mother or Gaia. They would twist anything to suit their own agenda. Melitta, however … her gods were not the same as Octavia's, but she had always been a strong believer. "If I could have but a moment to … consider," she murmured. "You have given me much to think about."

"Of course," Gaia said, dropping her hand in favor for her cheek, brushing long, slender fingers against it before her brow furrowed and she scrubbed a bit more aggressively at them, as if trying to remove the rouge from her rosy cheeks though none was there. "Oh, she's so young," the woman lamented, standing abruptly and leaning on Lucretia for support as they left Octavia to her thoughts.

Once the door closed behind them, Melitta was quick to reclaim her seat beside the girl on her bed. "There is a lot of pressure for a girl at your age," she noted, almost grateful that she had not had a choice in her marriage.

"You believe the gods send us visions, do you not? That they show glimpses of the path we're meant to take."

"Have you had such a vision?"

"Last night I dreamt that I was drowning. Everyone was dead, even Gannicus, and I was all alone. Caesar saved me."

Melitta's brow furrowed as she listened to the younger girl's recollection. "It is possible the gods are encouraging the union," she admitted. "But these dreams are not usually so simple. Capua has been in a drought for months, perhaps Caesar is linked to the end of it. Perhaps a great rain will come when he leaves the city."

"It was not rain that drowned us. It was blood."

A heavy silence fell between the pair. Such an ominous dream gave Melitta great concern, but she did not want to offer an interpretation of it. Not now, not on the spot, not when her interpretation was telling her that Caesar would save Octavia, in some way or another. "The gods may offer suggestions but your fate is your own," said Melitta. "What is your heart telling you?"

"That I will disappoint my mother if I do not at least try," said Octavia.

Melitta grabbed Octavia by the head so sharply the younger girl nearly flinched, her eyes going wide. "Your mother loves you," her slave told her fiercely. "Whether you marry Caesar or a slave, that will not change. All your mother wants is for you to be happy. Perhaps Lucretia does not know what will make you happy. Do you?"

Did she? Octavia couldn't be sure anymore. When she was a younger girl, her thoughts may have drifted to her parents, to the mostly loving home she'd grown up in, but something had changed last night. She felt little love or joy in her heart when she thought of her parents, but the entirety of the ludus had not grown so cold for her. "Yes," she said. "I do. Tell Naevia I'll have my breakfast now."

* * *

Choice had been stripped from his hands. Truthfully, a slave rarely had a choice in matters, especially when it came to what he must do with his body. So Gannicus was upon the sands at first light, training swords in hand as he sparred with Barca, and then Crixus, who now stood a brother. His ceremony had been the night before, absent the domina who'd fostered him.

On another day, Gannicus may have offered the Gaul sympathy. He knew what it felt like to be absent the girl's presence when it was all you longed for, but his head was filled with more pressing concerns that day. He spent hours upon the sand, training as if nothing were different, but instead of retiring to her private chambers when the sunset, he snuck inside the ludus, waiting in the shadows for her to come.

One of the other slaves came first, and then another still, before finally she found herself beneath the ludus. "Melitta," he called to her, grateful when her flinching did not lead to dropping the jug of wine she carried.

She had never looked less happy to see him in all their many years of friendship, but those years counted for something. Even if she didn't want to speak to him, he knew she would. "You should not be here," she informed him curtly, but made no movement to leave him.

Ignoring her advice, he approached the steel bars that kept the gladiators from ever entering the villa and wrapped his hands around them. "Is she …" The words would not formulate on his tongue. He'd practiced them in his head over and over throughout the day, a thousand different words in a thousand different variations, but none of them would come to him now.

She seemed to hear and understand them all the same. "She will recover, with time and distance from those who would harm her," she assured him, giving him a look that he didn't quite like.

"You think me one of them?" he demanded, looking as if she'd reached through the bars and struck him.

"What happened would not have absent your affections." His mouth fell open, filled with protests, but none of them bubbled up to the surface. She wasn't wrong, no matter how much he wished her to be. Had his eyes strayed to her less, had he accepted a lashing instead of speaking true … "I know it was not your intention ... however, it would be for the best if you do not speak to her again. Renew your focus on the games and do not let your attention stray to her. The time for those foolish affections are over."

"Foolish affections?" demanded Gannicus. "Melitta, I love her. You know that."

"If you love her as I do, you will not ruin her with your selfish longings," she said. "All that I have done, all of the sacrifices I have made, they cannot be for nothing because you cannot control yourself."

It was the end of the conversation as far as Melitta was concerned, and she turned from him now, wine jug still in hand, when he called out to her again. "Sacrifices?" he asked. "What sacrifices have you made? You have no idea what it's like to see her everyday and know that I can never-"

"Do I not?" snapped Melitta, sitting the jug of wine down on the stairs as she approached him again, her fingers gripping the bars just beneath his own. "The pain you feel is nothing compared to what my husband and I-"

"Oenomaus?" he interrupted, the irritation on his face fading into confusion.

The fire had gone out of Melitta as well as she stared up at the gladiator for a long while, her brow stitched tightly together. "It was before your time," she told him. "When I was but a girl no older than Octavia, when it was yet Titus who controlled this ludus. He did not wish for the dominus to marry Lucretia." Melitta paused, glancing over her shoulder as if fearing the repercussions for even speaking Lucretia's true name. "He thought her below the status of a lanista. After they were married, she could not produce an heir. Titus came up with an ultimatum before falling terribly ill and returning to Sicilia. If Lucretia could not bear a child, the dominus would have to leave her or leave this ludus with her. He was gone for over a year and when he returned, Lucretia had a healthy baby girl in her arms. But it was not hers."

Things were beginning to come together in Gannicus's mind. The overprotective streak from both Oenomaus and Melitta. How little Octavia looked like her parents. Her darker skin could've been attributed to more time in the sun, but her hair was thick and full and dark and after years of seeing her stand between Lucretia and Melitta, he should've known better. "They took her from you?" His dominus had done terrible things during his time in the ludus, but to steal a mother's child from her breast …

"What choice did we have?" she asked. "She grew up within my reach, with luxuries beyond my wildest imagining. She grew up a Roman citizen instead of a slave. She is above the cruelty and whims that we must suffer and I will not allow you or anyone else to bring her further harm."

* * *

 **A/N:** Heeeeeeyyyy guuuyyysss … well, I did say it would take a lot longer to update now. I didn't really mean QUITE this long. Fortunately, things in my life have settled down again and I should be able to update this story more regularly. Don't worry, I have no intentions of abandoning it. I know how it's going to go and how it's going to end, I just have to sit down and write it.

 _Special thanks to:_

 _ **Kairi-senpai:**_ I'm glad someone still is reading it! Hopefully the long gap didn't turn anyone away and you continue wanting to read it. :)

 _ **Daryl's Lady:**_ There is more soon! :P I'm glad you think it's well done. I'm not sure how great this chapter is as I've been trying to bust it out to have something to post after a two and a half month drought, but things will improve and be more regular from here on out. :)

 _ **HelltotheNo123:**_ Here's that update you asked for! Maybe it came later than you hoped … but hope you enjoy!

 _ **Aranel Celebrenlam:**_ I wholeheartedly accept the responsibility of keeping the Spartacus fandom alive! I love it enough to do so single handedly, but I definitely wouldn't mind if you felt like helping me out and posting some of your own fanfiction for me to read! :P If you ever do decide to write something for Spartacus, let me know! I'd love to read it!

 _ **XionNight:**_ Woooowww I love when people leave reviews on each chapter! It definitely helps me a lot to see what people like or didn't like about certain parts of the story, so I really appreciate you leaving me feedback! Unfortunately, I did take your advice and took a LITTLE too long with updating, but hopefully it will be worth it when I get back into the swing of things. I'm thrilled someone doesn't mind the change to Crassus and Caesar. My story covers the entirety of all four seasons, so it made sense for me to have "villains" (not sure I'd necessarily call them that) that span the whole thing, rather than having new villains start and end every 5-6 chapters when I hit a new season. Thanks again for your reviews, and I hope you continue to enjoy! :)

 _ **HelloWorld:**_ Haha I'd love to give Gannicus and Octavia some more alone time, trust me! But it's just not Spartacus if there's not a bit of anguish. :P Thank you so much for your kind review! I feel terrible it's taken me so long to update, but I should be updating at least every two weeks from now on. (But hopefully more.)

 _ **Vikihungerrgame1:**_ I loved loved loved loved loooooved Melitta! Especially the way she fostered and tried to protect Naevia and Diona. I really preferred her as the motherly character she started as, without all the nonsense with Gannicus, so I'm glad I'm doing her justice in this story. No, no, fortunately for you, Caesar is going back to Rome! You're free! :P You'll definitely be seeing him again, of course, but he'll have a lot of growing up to do in that time. I promise you'll (hopefully) like him more then, and so, I suspect, will Octavia. :)

Thank you, as always, for the review! I love getting to read them and you were the first person to notice and acknowledge this story, so you're really the reason I went back to it and keep updating it now. Hope you keep enjoying. :)

 _ **Amandamarinhorosa22:**_ I'm afraid it took me a while, but here's a continuation for you! :)


	7. Chapter 7

He had not expected much, but he'd hoped for more than this. He had fought and nearly died in the arena absent the mark of the brotherhood. He'd killed his own brother, a man he'd born no affection toward, but a brother all the same. He'd spilt blood for the House of Batiatus and all he'd been rewarded with was wine he did not drink, women he did not want, and gratitude from a dominus he did not know.

His position among the men had risen considerably; no longer something to be mocked, but a brother, a friend. It meant little to him in her absence. A day passed, then another, and more after that until he began to question if she had been no more than a fever dream. Something fabricated within his own head to cope with his life in the ludus, to give purpose to all the blood, a reason to rise every morning. All that tethered her to reality were feverish, desperate looks from the champion of Capua that matched his own, always searching for the girl upon the balcony and always coming up empty.

Days turned to weeks and weeks grew into months before she returned, standing on the balcony beside a man he did not recognize, as if it had been hours instead of months since the last time she'd done so. He need not fear Barca turning his distraction to advantage as all movement upon the sands had halted. "Dominus!" greeted the Beast of Carthage, a smile upon his face that seemed terribly out of character.

But he was not the only gladiator who seemed oddly pleased to see the man they called dominus, as if he were an old friend returned, and not the father of the dominus Crixus had known. "You see," said Octavia, smiling down at the men who greeted her grandfather. "Your return lifts the heart."

"Only for those still possessing one," Titus replied with a smile. "I can scarce recognize half the men and find many I recall strikingly absent. Where stands Doctore? Auctus?"

"Oenomaus is Doctore now," she explained. "Auctus fell in the arena against Crixus, one of the newer recruits."

"I recall the name from the ledger," said Titus. "A sapling of exceeding cost."

"He has already earned the mark and won several battles in the area," she told him, glancing to where Crixus currently stood beside Baraca. "Father thinks he may even be champion upon a day."

Crixus looked more like a wild beast than a man he'd stake the future of his house in, and yet … his eyes searched for Gannicus, the Celt who'd risen to prominence in his absence. Even in Sicilia he'd heard over embellished tales of the prowess of the Champion of Capua, but he looked to Titus much the same as when he'd left him. Ever a boy, overripe with squandered potential, whose true love was women, not the arena. Even now, the boy's attentions were focused on his granddaughter, not on the instruction Oenomaus had given. "He would be a welcome replacement for the current," he muttered.

Octavia could not bring herself to look where she knew he stood. It had been two long months since that night. She had not seen him nor spoken to him, or any from the ludus in that time. A trip to visit her grandfather in Sicilia had taken precedence, feeling almost necessary in the wake of what had transpired. It hurt to look at her mother and father, to be in the villa, to look down upon the ludus. Time away had done little to balm her wounds. "He has won countless battles for the House of Batiatus," she said, choosing to stick to something factual instead of letting her feelings influence her. "He's the greatest gladiator in the Republic."

"There is more to a champion than skill," her grandfather said. "Gannicus possesses little beyond talent with a blade. I have had several offers to make purchase of the man since arriving in Capua. If your man Crixus is as good as you say, we may have a new champion soon."

"You would sell Gannicus?" she asked, her head feeling light at the notion. What a fool she had been to waste precious moments in Sicilia while he still lived beneath her roof.

"Your father overinflates the man's value," said Titus. "I do not share his confidence."

"Apologies, but you have been gone for many years," she said, speaking out of turn though she knew she should not. "He is not the boy you knew. To send him away absent even proper chance …" Titus smiled as he watched her fluster, desperate to convince him of the man's value. She had gone too long under her father's guidance and he feared she would possess all the same shortcomings. "You should have a contest to see how the men perform," she said, surprising him. "Learn of the men beneath your roof before you deem them unworthy."

* * *

Had a man ever known greater torture? What had he ever done for the gods to curse him so?

She stood within his reach, mere steps away. It was all he could do to remain standing when a breeze blew the floral scent of her hair through him. To be denied her presence for so long had been agony, but to be at her side now and still unable to touch her was more than any man should be asked to endure. She would not even give him her eyes and he thought a crueler woman had never existed.

If Batiatus knew he'd not heard a single word being said, he did not show it. The man had been speaking for ages about the return of his father, about what was expected of him, of things that mattered very little to Gannicus and only served to prolong his pain. Until one word managed to slip through. "I'm to be sold?" he demanded, his hazy brain clearing instantly as he gaped at the man before him.

Batiatus seemed surprised to have finally garnered a reaction from the man. "Yes," he said. "But only if you should lose to one of the men. Prove yourself the man I know you are and you will remain within these walls. That is what you want, is it not?"

"Yes," he answered without hesitation.

Quintus nodded, glancing between the gladiator and his daughter, who had been rather fascinated with a spot on the floor since the man's arrival. Caesar had been a plague upon their house, leaving no blessings but nearly taking his daughter from him. He was not certain she would have returned from Sicilia at all had his father not made the trip himself. As much as allowing that night to pass may have cost him, it also presented opportunity. A blind man could see what stood before him now. The childish affection his daughter bore the man had grown into something else entirely. The man was in love with her; a desperate kind of love that he would do anything to keep. Men who fought for glory did well enough, but men who fought for love? They fought like gods. "Octavia," he called and she finally looked up from the ground. "See Gannicus returned to the ludus."

A slave's job and they both knew it, but Gannicus would certainly not protest and Octavia knew she couldn't. "Yes, Father," she murmured, sparing the man a disdainful look before leading Gannicus from his chambers.

She did not manage to get him very far before he called out to her, "Domina."

"Yes," she replied briskly, his voice only serving to make her walk faster. Warm, coarse fingers wrapped around her shoulder and pulled her to a stop. "Gannicus," she warned, but hearing her say his name after going so long without offered little but encouragement.

His fingers grazed across her shoulder and up her neck, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. "I have been absent your gaze far too long," he said. "How much longer will you keep it from me?" She was certain she was breathing but the air never quite seemed to reach her lungs. She turned to meet him and found the same beautiful, golden man she had always dreamt of. How many sleepless nights had she envisioned him giving her the same look he was offering her now? Like she was all he knew and all he ever cared to know. "There you are."

But he was no longer only the man she'd always wanted. Behind him now stood her mother and father. Gaia, Crassus, Caesar. Betrayal. Manipulation. Cruelty. They had only been together for a game to entertain Caesar. They were only together now because of a game her father seemed to be playing to garner a strong sense of control over the gladiator. Her affection for the man had been fruitless in her youth, but it had been her own. Now it was tainted and misused and she no longer knew where her desire ended and her father's began. "You should return to the ludus."

Gannicus flinched as if she had struck him. "Octavia-"

"Domina," she corrected.

Melitta had been wrong. Her mother would not love her if she married a slave. What life could Gannicus provide for her? Would she visit his private chambers once per week as Melitta did Oenomaus? Would she lie with him atop his stone bed? Would their children serve as her mother's body slaves? She had seen their future together and all it offered was blood and death. She would not suffer Gaius Julius Caesar, but there would come another man, a proper Roman. Perhaps even a senator. She would live in his villa in Rome and have his children and Gannicus would grow older and slower and weaker until he met his end in the arena. She was not a little girl anymore; Gannicus had made her a woman and it was time she acted like it.

Gannicus himself seemed less keen on her plans. "Tell me what I have done," he urged. "I will do whatever I must to fix it."

"All you need do is return to the ludus," she replied. "You know the way, there is no need for me-"

She tried to sidestep him, to return to her chambers where she could stop her hands from trembling, but he grabbed her, all sense of propriety gone now as he nearly enveloped her. "Do not do this," he pleaded, a desperation in his voice that she had never heard before.

"I must," she said, "don't you see?"

Could he see why the gods had dangled love in front of him only to snatch it away when he reached for it? "No." He knew she couldn't see it either. There was a reason her hands trembled at her sides, why she was trying to blink away the tears that were forming. "I love you and you love me, too."

"It's not enough. Not for this world."

Gannicus had little interest in what she'd said, but words she had not spoken held the world. "You don't deny it?" She couldn't. She didn't think her heart was strong enough to survive the attempt. "Say it."

"It won't make-"

"Say the words," he all but commanded.

"I love you."

A silence hung over them as his grip on her arms went slack. He had held her so tightly she was certain she would bruise. "Those are the only words in this world that mean a damn thing to me. Do you understand?" She nodded. "Do not try to take them from me again."

No, she realized, staring up at him. He was not the beautiful, golden man she had always wanted anymore. With naught but a teasing smile to offer her as he drank and fucked his way out of ever taking anything seriously. He was the Gannicus she had dreamt of, capable of more love and depth and sincerity than she had ever thought his physical form could muster. She did not see her father when she looked at him, not Crassus nor Caesar. All she saw was him.

* * *

 **A/N:** Unfortunately, we're nearing the end of Gods of the Arena material. :( The _good_ news, however, is that I fully intend to cover all four seasons. :) While I do have an ending mapped out and a few key points I really want to hit along the way, I'm not super duper set in how Octavia gets there. SO, my dear readers, now I must pass a question onto you!

As I said a while ago, this was originally written as a roleplay between me and a friend. We combined basically all of the seasons, meaning Spartacus was in the ludus at the same time Gannicus was. This was done for our personal enjoyment but it would've been GOD awful to read, so I removed everything with Spartacus. However, I do have a fair amount of things with Octavia and Spartacus written that I could start using when we hit Blood and Sand.

So, the question is, for the Blood and Sand era, do you want:

Spartacus and Octavia

Crixus and Octavia

Spartacus/Crixus/Octavia

For Octavia to be #foreveralone because Gannicus is her one true love

Some other pairing?

Let me know! I'm open to pretty much anything as long as it's not like … Octavia/Solonius. I'm perfectly happy letting her pine over Gannicus forever, but if everyone wants Octavia/ … Varro? I'm happy to write a bit of that, too.

 _Special thanks to:_

 **Bookkeeper88:** Ha, I'm glad I managed to make it subtle enough for people to be surprised by it! I thought for sure everyone would know, so I'm glad to hear you enjoyed it. :)

 **Acwwluver:** I'm so happy that you love it enough to want to comment! Reviews are, after all, a huge motivator for a lot of people on this site. It really lets me know that it's worthwhile for me to sit down and write because at least one person is enjoying it, so I really appreciate it! :)

 **Vikihungerrgame1:** Your reviews continue to be my absolute favorite! :) It actually made me laugh! I really did think everyone would know based on the cover picture alone, so it cracks me up that you're looking at it now feeling stupid. :P I'm stoked it still managed to be a surprise!

You have to look at Caesar this way! He was a total shithead in the first few episodes! He grew along the way and you could see what a huge heart he had and how much he really cared about the Romans, but he was an absolute entitled shithead twat in the beginning, and he's about five years more immature in the Gods of the Arena. Give him time to pull his head out of his ass. :P

Yes, definitely Kore will make an appearance! I can't believe you only just finished the series now. Are you as emotionally devastated as I was? I'm pretty sure I cried over Gannicus for three straight hours. Thank you so so so sooooo much, as always, for the hilarious and encouraging reviews! They really do make me want to sit down and keep writing. And YOU have a good day too! :P

 **Swingrim:** I can definitely include more Crixus! If you want to see more of him or see a fleshed out romance with him and Octavia, like I said up above, please do let me know and I'll try to make the most amount of people happy! Thanks for your review, I hope you keep enjoying it!

 **Kallene:** Whooooaaa high praise! You really don't know how much I appreciate reviews like these. They make my entire week and hugely inspire me to keep writing and keep posting, so thank you so so much!

 **Helinahandcart:** Hahaha I don't know how you saw the original version of this unless you have access to my google drive, but I'm glad you're enjoying the rewrites more! Thank you so much for your reviews, I really hope you continue to enjoy! :)


	8. Chapter 8

"Look at me," Gaia commanded upon stepping out onto the balcony. Lucretia, Octavia, and Melitta all shifted their attention to the woman curiously. "What do you see? Am I a withered old crone?"

Melitta and Octavia glanced at each other hesitantly, unsure of how to answer. Lucretia rolled her eyes and beckoned her overly dramatic companion to come and join them where they sat overlooking the proceedings below. For several days the gladiators had been in competition to see who stood best among them and who would be condemned to the mines. "Tell us what's happened," her mother urged.

"I stood before your man Gannicus with obvious charms and he would not have me. I fear I have lost delicate touch," she lamented, sending the man in question a withering look that he did not notice. "You said the man was often for the embrace of women."

Lucretia spared her daughter a quick glance before moving her eyes back to Gaia. "He was upon a time," she explained. "He has been of a mood as of late. Coin that used to go to the procuring of wine and cunt now sits unspent. We'll have the man whipped for disobedience after competition has ended."

"No, no," said Gaia, waving a dismissive hand. She looked to Octavia now and sour expression was replaced with a smile. "I should have known the man would not be swayed."

"You would lie with a gladiator?" asked Octavia, wondering if it was possible that she had understood the conversation happening before her correctly. She'd been forced to lie with Gannicus as a cruel joke for the Romans to laugh at. The union had been a jest to all who'd witnessed it, and yet now Gaia would do the same of her own volition. "Why?"

Gaia and Lucretia shared a look and then a laugh. "Would that you could have borne witness to that night. You would not stand so confused," Gaia assured her, smiling a knowing smile that made Octavia feel stupid. "It was quite a performance. You must understand why Caesar himself favored you so."

"He did not favor me," she said.

"He favored you as a whore is favored by the man atop her," said Gaia. "But favor you he did." Octavia pursed her lips, wanting to argue but not wanting to discuss that night again and rehash all of the feelings that came with it. "I have had … certain cravings since that night."

"Perhaps a different slave," suggested Lucretia. "One more obedient."

"Oh, I pray he not be," Gaia said with a giggle. "I would have him wild and untamed." Octavia watched as her mother and her friend surveyed the men below, looking as if they were picking the ripest fruit from the market. She could tell the melon was firm when both women shared a smile. "Your Gaul does appear to be of a form. Look at the fire behind every swing of his blade."

Lucretia smirked, glancing away from Crixus and to Melitta instead. All it took was a jerk of her head for command to be given and Melitta bowed in simple understanding. "Shall I retrieve him for you?" asked Octavia, speaking loudly and quickly before Melitta could skitter away. She could see her mother's brow knit together out of the corner of her eye, but she kept her gaze firmly on the other woman. "Would you like him bathed or do you prefer him in his … current state?"

"Do something to mask the stench," said Gaia. "Otherwise, I'll have him as he is."

Octavia could still hear the women laughing amongst themselves as she walked back into the villa. She could feel an odd anger bubbling up in her belly and she needed to get away before it erupted. What was she even angry about?

It wasn't much longer that she found herself leading the man up the stairs and into the ludus, past a handful of guards until she could pull him into her own chambers, away from prying eyes and ears. It almost hurt to see the way he looked at her, his eyes filled with something resembling trust. "Crixus," she began confidently enough. "I … there is something we must discuss."

"Have I done something wrong, domina?"

"No! No." Octavia moved to sit on the edge of the bed, pulling her legs up and crossing them in front of her. "You have done everything and more for this House than I ever hoped. I cannot begin to thank you enough. My father believes you will be champion upon a day."

"And you?"

"I have seen you rise from an untamed stone layer to one of the best gladiators in this ludus. I do not think there is a limit to your potential or how high you will rise, but that's not what I've brought you here to discuss." Confusion splayed out over his features again. "You're going to be _asked_ to do something but the question is a lie. You do not have choice."

Crixus didn't understand why Octavia seemed so concerned for him. He didn't understand why he'd been brought to her chambers, either, but he'd have been lying if he said he hadn't hoped for something else. "A slave never holds choice," he told her. It was not his choice to live in the ludus, to fight and bleed and likely die for the House of Batiatus. He had more than accepted it, but none of it had been of his choosing.

"I know," said Octavia, her eyes struggling to meet his. "This will be different. You will be asked to do things that should never be forced upon anyone." Things were beginning to dawn on Crixus and he shifted uncomfortably before her. "You do not stand alone in your plight. I am not certain if that makes it better or worse."

"Domina?"

"The strong prey on the weak and the weak prey on the weaker," she murmured. "That is the Roman way. Was it different in Gallia?"

Truthfully, Crixus had been no more than a boy last he stood upon the dirts of his homelands. "No, domina."

"Come," she commanded, waving him over closer to her bed. Swallowing, he obeyed. "I am … I do wish it could be different," Octavia told him, grabbing his hand and rolling it so his wrist was exposed to her. A strong scent wafted up into his nostrils as she dabbed an oil against his wrist before doing the same to his other hand. "It's a perfume of my own creation," she said with a smile when she noticed him smelling his now free wrist. "Frankincense, myrrh, cinnamon and rose petals. I'm not sure if it's better suited for a man or a woman."

Octavia grew even closer to him then, standing up from the bed and dabbing a bit of the liquid behind one of his ears and then the other. His jaw clenched tightly as she dragged her finger and the excess oil down the nape of his neck. He watched as her eyes drifted downwards, towards where the rest of the scent likely needed to be applied, and she floundered for only a moment before his hands wrapped around hers, taking the vial of liquid and setting his own hands to purpose.

"Gratitude," she murmured awkwardly, taking the vial back when he had finished. A painful silence fell over them for a long moment before she took his hand in her own, this time only to embrace it. "You mustn't keep her waiting any longer."

* * *

Gannicus could not remember the last time he'd walked so freely through the streets. There were no chains around his ankles to stop him from running, nor around his wrists to weaken him. They were not needed with his current companion. He would not run unless she went with him, and he would only fight at her command. "What do you think?" she asked him, grabbing a piece of lace dyed a deep, rich purple and wrapping it around herself.

"Venus herself weeps to know she could never achieve such beauty," he told her, throwing his arms out theatrically for embellishment. Octavia cut him a less than pleasant look and he laughed. "Do women grow weary of being informed of their great beauty?"

"Only when they need to choose fabric for a new dress for the opening ceremony," she answered, dropping the lace and moving on to other options. "Melitta would have made better companion."

Gannicus merely smiled as he followed behind her in the streets of the market as they made their way to the fourth fabric merchant. The opening games of the new arena meant a great deal to Batiatus, especially now that he had somehow managed to secure his men in the primus. With the competition back at the ludus completed and the thought of his sale forever stricken from mind, Octavia was free to fret about more frivolous things. "It is true I prefer you with no fabric at all," he admitted, leaning closely to whisper in her ear as they passed behind a soap merchant.

He was met with a sharp elbow to his ribcage and feigned great pain as he fell a few steps behind her. "I shall command your return to the villa presently," she threatened, her lips pursed as she examined a deep green silk. "Do not tempt my wrath, Celt."

"Only a fool would dare, domina."

He could see her lips twitching as she tried to fight off a smile, intent her day not ending so fruitlessly. The opening of the arena was only a few days away. "Which color do you like most?" Gannicus glanced to the fabrics before him, with every color he knew and more at their disposal. She made no gesture to any particular fabric. "Not of the fabrics before you. Close your eyes and think of a color. Which comes to mind first?"

"Red," he answered.

 _Like blood_ , she thought. She should've known. There were quite a few shades of red before her and in quite a few different styles, but she chose a dark crimson in silk and in lace and handed them to the merchant. "Twenty denarii," he said.

"Do criminals walk the streets of Capua masquerading as merchants?"

The voice alone was enough to send a shiver down her spine. She could see how tense Gannicus looked out of the corner of her eye and it only served as confirmation. "Imperator," the merchant said, bowing his head anxiously. "Perhaps I misspoke. Five denarii?"

Octavia suspected Caesar could've gotten the man to pay him to take the contents of his cart, but he seemed to accept five denarii and reached out to pay the sum. Anger flared up in her belly and she stepped between the two men, offering up her own coin to make purchase. "Gratitude," she muttered under her breath, picking up her fabric only to have it torn from her embrace. Octavia's jaw was set as she turned to face her newest companion. He looked strangely taller, more golden, with his hair cropped short and neat, and the smile upon his lips that still made her nervous. "Would you have me bake in sun entire day to indulge whatever game you're playing now?"

"No," he answered, smile never faltering. "I had hoped to receive invitation to your villa in payment for negotiation skills lended."

"Negotiation and intimidation are two different things."

"But prove equally effective," said Caesar.

"I had thought you for Rome," Octavia stated, making it perfectly clear how disappointed she was that rumor proved false.

"And I had thought gladiators above position of common guard," he replied, his attention finally shifting from her, if but for a moment. "I find many exceptions are made for the man."

Octavia swallowed, forcing her gaze to remain on Caesar though her eyes craved desperately for another. "I shall return him presently to the ludus," she offered. "And you may return to Rome."

"You would have me miss the games?" asked Caesar. "I was invited by good Varus after regaling him with tales of your man's most memorable performance." Octavia blanched, imagining the men of Rome gossiping about the loss of her virtue. Caesar's smile widened. "Have you already forgotten his victory in the games where your Gaul proved himself worthy of title of gladiator?" With one last withering look, Octavia turned on her heel and marched away from him. Caesar did not hesitate to follow. "You've forgotten your silk."

"I fear the fabric forever tainted with the stench of pomposity," she called back over her shoulder, oblivious to the smile ever growing on Caesar's lips.

* * *

 **A/N:** God damn Spartacus fandom is alive and well! I'm flabbergasted by how many reviews this has gotten, specifically the latest chapter. You guys are seriously the best. GO WRITE YOUR OWN SPARTACUS FICS SO I CAN COME AND READ THEM! :P

Also, sorry this took so long to put on. If I'm being honest, I'm really running out of inspiration for this portion of the fic. Gannicus is hands down my favorite, but it's hard to stay committed and interested in six episodes of a series that was on the air so long ago. Whenever I need to write a new chapter, I try to watch a few episodes to get in the mood for it, but you can only watch the same few episodes of TV over and over and over again in a short period of time before it stops inspiring you.

I realize that sounds really scary to anyone who's reading this story hahahah. I'm in no way shape or form losing motivation to write this story. But the next chapter or two may take me a while to put out as I try to finish Gods of the Arena and write chapters that will largely be a bit sad for me. The GOOD news, however, is that I've already got the first two chapters of the Blood and Sand era written and ready to post. So once I get over this little hump, it'll be smooth sailing with new material and almost twice as many episodes. :)

 _Special thanks to:_

 **Helinahandcart:** As much as I would totally love to just write a Gannicus fluff fic, I care way too much about all of the characters and the entire overarching story to not want to include and write about that. And for me, having that perfect happy story where they manage to stay together through the years betrays the fandom I'm writing about! I wrote Spartacus fanfiction because I live for the #suffering. :P Thanks for the review, I hope you continue to read and enjoy even if it doesn't follow the path you hoped. :)

 **BookKeeper88:** Wow, I totally and completely agree with everything you said! It's like you read my mind! I definitely think that love comes in different forms and different levels. She's loved Gannicus for most of her life and I would never want to take away from what they had or try to diminish it. HOWEVER … that doesn't mean she wouldn't be able to have something with someone to follow, sort of how Spartacus had Mira but he could never love her the way he loved Sura. Thank you so much for your review and your continued support for the story. :) It really makes me motivated to write more.

 **Itsreagannn:** Hey, your wish is my command! Enough people wanted to see her with Spartacus that I'm definitely going to include what I've already written for the two. :) Thank you for the review and I hope you continue to enjoy!

 **Gabby3:** I definitely agree Spartacus needs a happy relationship! My poor boy never got to be happy the entire damn show. I'm going to have to do something to remedy that. :) Thank you so much for your review!

 **Acwwluver:** Don't worry, Octavia/Gannicus is definitely what I'm rooting for too. It makes me so happy that you guys seem to actually care about their relationship. :') It must mean I've written it at least decently well! Thank you for your review! I know you've been following this story for a while and I really appreciate it. :)

 **Swingrim:** Hey, even more Crixus for you in this chapter! :P I love all of your ideas, please feel free to share them! Crixus is so underrated in the fandom I think, so I'm definitely happy to include as much of him as you can handle. :) Thank you so much for your review!

 **Vikihungerrgame1:** Whaaaat?! I could never get tired of it! I love love love your reviews and how weird they are. Honestly, I probably would've quit writing it several chapters ago if not for you, ya weirdo. :P

Those Caesar abs were … really something. So were the biceps. That has nothing to do with why I wanted to write about him either, though, of course! I totally loved Crassus as a character but I wish he would've done something differently by Kore. You could tell Caesar didn't agree with it and it would've humanized him more and made the fact he won a bit easier to swallow. I guess maybe the show wanted to remind you he's an asshole in the end.

I HAAATTTEEDDD SYBIIIILLLL! Ugh, I love every other character in the show but I couldn't stomach her. I loved Gannicus with Saxa and that was really his only relationship that made sense to me. I didn't really like him with Melitta, but I liked Melitta on her own. She had a character, you know? She was a loving, supportive wife, a mother figure trying to guide the other slave girls in the villa, and she was so kind and wise even Lucretia cared about her. All we knew about Sibyl was that she liked Gannicus, she wanted to bang Gannicus, and … did I mention she really liked Gannicus? Blech! The worst!

You are sooooo right about Gannicus not going celibate for her! Why should she pine over him for years while he's off whoring around? Especially when she's got Solonius's sexy ass walking around ….. :P I hope you're feeling better after the dentist! And that you're not in jail. I don't think they have in prison. :P

 **CrixusFan:** Wow so many fans of Crixus coming out of the woodwork lately. :P I love that I basically gave you what you asked for unintentionally! You picked the perfect time to leave a review, and I thank you for it! :)

 **Alessandra92** & **Stargurl:** Thank you for your reviews! I'll take them into consideration when writing. :)


	9. Chapter 9

Melitta's stomach was in knots as she listened to her daughter's plans. "He has not spent a coin in months," she announced. "I've checked the ledger. With a few more victories in the primus he will have ample coin to purchase freedom."

Octavia flinched when Melitta's fingers tangled her hair into knots. "You think your father will allow such a thing?" asked the body slave, doing all she could to keep her voice steady. "Gannicus stands champion. Entire contest was held to keep him within this ludus."

"If he refuses, I will make other arrangements," the young girl answered with a shrug, smiling into the mirror upon noticing how beautifully Melitta had braided her hair for the games. "I know you feel unfavorably about it but I would be happy. I have no need of … this," she gestured to the room around her, the finery, the comfort, the villa. "Not if I have him."

Melitta bit down hard on her tongue, willing herself not to speak. She knew better than to attempt to maneuver the girl, who so often set herself upon a path and refused to be moved from it. It was not Octavia she would sway from this path of foolishness, but Gannicus.

In the reflection of her mirror, Octavia could see Gaia enter into her bedroom, adorned in a beautiful gown of silk and lace, each the color of blood. "Beautiful, is it not?" the older woman asked, smiling when Octavia turned around to gape at her. "Delivered for you by a man I had thought far out of your reach by now. Why red, do you think?"

"For blood," answered Octavia.

"Maiden's blood or blood spilt in the arena?" the older woman wondered. "I expect he's equally fond of both." Gaia approached and sat beside her, tucking a loose tendril behind her ear delicately. "He has gone to surprising lengths to procure your affection. And yet you would still deny him it?"

"Yes," she answered.

"Why?"

Octavia had never pondered the answer to this question before. She had never considered the reasoning important. "It's not my affection he wants, but my humiliation."

Gaia smiled at her, as if she were smiling at a very naive, very silly, little girl. Octavia supposed she was. "I do not think that's true," she said. "But women are given so few choices in this world I will not deny you this one. Your father, however, is like a bloodhound, his nose ever seeking out more power. You and I are naught but commodities to him, ready to be sold to the highest bidder. He will not permit choice if he hears of Caesar's continued interest."

"But you would?" asked Octavia, sounding dubious.

"I may reconsider if you do not strike that look of surprise from your eyes," the older woman replied, sounding equal parts serious and teasing. "I'll consider the dress payment for my silence."

Octavia would have given her a hundred dresses for that.

* * *

The opening games of the new arena were like nothing she had ever seen before. The Pulvinus in the old arena had been little more than a platform raised no more than a foot above the rest of the crowd. But here, they stood high above them all, overlooking the crowd and chaos below far out of reach. It was certainly much safer, she thought, though she felt very far removed.

There was more space in the Pulvinus now. Magistrate Sextus was among them, alongside his companions Varus and Cossutius. She also spotted Solonius and a handful of other less important people, but then her eyes landed upon Caesar and she could not tear them from him.

His eyes raked over her body, taking in every inch of the peach colored fabric that clung to her body. It suited her skin perfectly, but it wasn't what he'd wanted to see her in. Octavia tried not to smile at his disappointment, but she didn't really try very hard. "What an impetuous woman you've turned out to be," he commented morosely as she took the seat beside him.

"You _did_ suggest I not fear you," she reminded him. "I appear endlessly unable to please you."

"Endlessly and with powerful intent," remarked Caesar, his gaze lingering upon her for a moment before shifting to the sands below.

* * *

"Don't die too quickly," said the Gaul, appearing beside him with freshly cropped hair and a clean shaven jaw. Someone in the villa had taken a liking to him, Gannicus realized. Likely not the woman he had wanted to, however, which explained why his expression was so treacherous. "I will see you upon the field and have proper contest at last."

Gannicus merely glared at him, his brain feeling oddly slow, leaving him unable to think of any kind of quick witted retort. He couldn't be bothered with Crixus now. His mind, body, and soul had one solitary purpose: blood. "It's not often I find you so quiet," Oenomaus commented. "Now is not the time to develop fear of the arena."

"You mistake purpose for fear," he replied. Threats from Crixus were easy enough to ignore as he had grown quite accustomed to receiving them, but he would not have Oenomaus think him afraid.

Oenomaus had seen Gannicus in a hundred fights and the man's arrogant, easy smile had never been so far removed. "New arena has inflamed you so?"

"Rather the coin linked to it," admitted Gannicus.

"Coin has never motivated you," said Oenomaus. It dawned on him suddenly, the meaning of it all. "Your freedom … could you really be such a fool?"

"It would seem that I am, brother." A range of emotions flashed across his dearest friend's face before he seemed to settle on anger. He understood why. There was no time left between them for Gannicus to explain; the horns had blown, signaling the beginning of the opening games.

* * *

Octavia had never witnessed anything like she had that night. More than a dozen men had spent an hour trapped within a burning circle, and half of them had been her own. Gannicus, Crixus, and several others that were _hers_. It was terrifying enough to witness one of her men fighting, but to see Crixus turn upon Gannicus? It was almost more than she could bear.

But Crixus lived, and Gannicus stood triumphant. Covered in blood and death, he ignited the crowd as he always did, their screams shaking the very foundations of the arena. It was all Octavia could do to breathe again, relaxing into her seat knowing that winning the primus had secured their future. He would have more than enough coin now to purchase freedom and her life, the life she had always wanted, would finally begin. "Your man Gannicus truly ignites the crowd," she heard Sextus compliment her father.

"Perhaps you'll have mind to use him in your future games," her father replied, ever a man of business and forethought.

Sextus smiled, nodding his agreement. "Gannicus seems a necessity to make _anything_ memorable," commented Cossutius. "I have mind towards your man for my own games."

"As do I," agreed Varrus. "Listen to how they rejoice!" Chants of _Gannicus_ could be heard throughout the arena.

"Would they not forever remember this day and the men responsible," Caesar wondered, "if Gannicus were granted freedom?"

"An _excellent_ suggestion!" said Sextus, glancing over his shoulder at Batiatus. "You can always train another gladiator, yet to conclude the opening ceremonies with such a blessing?"

Her mother had gone a ghostly shade of white, nearly collapsing in her seat as she hoped and prayed her husband would find a way to weasel his way out of this one. But Quintus knew - how could he deny a request from such powerful men? Caesar had trapped him this way once before, and he had even less power to contend the man now. "I but honor my city," her father said, slumping down into his own chair.

Sextus rose now, addressing the crowd. "Gannicus has proven himself to the city of Capua! Let us reward him … with freedom."

Gannicus appeared unable to register the word at first, and the realization of what he had won took many moments to dawn on him. As it did, his eyes moved sharply to hers, the weight of the world in one simple look.

Octavia flinched as Caesar's lips brushed against her ear, more startled than truly frightened. "You may have found pleasing me more pleasant," he murmured, completely unaware of the aid he had just given her.

* * *

All of his brothers had come to see him off upon the sands of the ludus. His blood, their blood, had blessed the earth beneath him, and part of Gannicus feared leaving it. It had been his home for longer than he could remember - he did not remember a life before the ludus. The promise of a life yet to come was all that steeled his nerves.

"I'll join you soon, you mad fuck," Barca grinned, grasping his arm tightly.

"Of that, I have no doubt," replied Gannicus, embracing the man before approaching the only brother who seemed to have no interest in seeing him off. Crixus scowled upon his approach, his pride yet too wounded from the previous night's games. Gannicus pulled the necklace from his throat and handed it to the man, who accepted it reluctantly. "I was given this when I became champion of this house. Wear it with more honor than I have."

Oenomaus would be his last goodbye, alongside Melitta. "Proof you no longer stand a slave," his oldest friend said with a smile, offering a sword etched with his victories. "It lifts heart to see treasured friend earn his freedom … before tarnishing himself forever in my eyes."

Gannicus grimaced, avoiding Oenomaus's eye in favor of Melitta's. Her gaze was not much kinder. "I know what you intend to do," she stated. Octavia had told her, as she told her everything. Gannicus meant to leave the ludus but return in cover of the night to steal away the most precious thing in her world. "A crueler man has never existed."

"Love makes me cruel?"

"Leave her," the woman demanded, grasping his hands harshly. "I beg of you. Leave her be. Let her grow within this ludus, let her marry a Roman man. Let my grandchildren be Roman citizens instead of … instead of _you_. Do not take this life from her for the sake of _love_."

"You speak of love as if it is some insignificant thing and not the greatest cause of all," he argued, feeling himself grow angry. He had to reel it in; Batiatus and his wife still watched them. "What is freedom worth without it? You would have me leave her behind to marry a man like Caesar? Or a man like her father, who sees her as little more than a commodity to be sold?"

"Yes," said Oenomaus. "If you are the man I know you to be, the brother I have loved, you will not wrest her from the heavens and drag her back down to our level. Love cannot feed her or shelter her or protect her from the cruelty of this world. Men like Batiatus and Caesar _can_."

Gannicus wanted nothing more than to argue. To tell them both they were wrong, that he could feed and shelter and protect her more than the others could. From a blade, it was true, but he had no idea how to protect her from the rest of it. He'd been in the ludus since he was a boy. He didn't know how to earn coin outside it. He didn't know if the coin he had was ample enough to buy her a bed and a roof overtop of it. Who would protect her while he was gone trying to procure more? To leave her behind after all he had promised was unspeakably cruel, but was it even more so to take her from this? "You ask me to tear out my own heart and leave it behind," he said.

"We ask you to love her enough to let her go, as we had to," said Melitta.

There was a pain in his chest that he couldn't quite explain. "I have to … to explain," his eyes found the ludus, found the room he knew was hers.

"That girl is a force of nature," Melitta said. "She will not let you go if you give her the chance to stop you."

An image of Octavia came to his mind as she sat waiting for him, alone in the dark, and alone still when the sun rose. The pain in his chest was unbearable. She would hate him after this and that was the cruelest thing of all. "You are exactly the man I thought you to be," said Oenomaus, a proud smile on his face as he embraced the broken man before him. "Go in peace now, brother, knowing you have done what is right."

* * *

 **A/N:** Yikes! Another really long gap between chapters. I've been in the process of moving to a different country and settling into a new job, so fanfiction has unfortunately fallen off the ol' priority list for the time being. Fortunately, I have the beginning of the Blood and Sand era written and ready to post. I'll probably post it this weekend to make up for the long wait. :) Thanks for sticking with me!

Honestly, I really feel like I dropped the ball with this chapter. I apologize if this isn't the greatest part of the story. I know it seems rushed - it absolutely _was_. I've been trying to write this chapter since MAY! and it really just didn't want to come out of me. Normally I'd rather take a bit of extra time to make sure the chapter is good but for me, at this point, I felt like if I didn't push _something_ out and finish this chapter, I would never do it.

And yes … I know it's a bummer ending. Yes, I know I didn't give them any time to interact or say goodbye in the final chapter. It was intentional - to be in the Spartacus fandom is to suffer. :P Don't worry, they'll see each other again.

 _Special thanks to:_

 **Swingrim:** Hahaha I would have loved to write more of that scene with Gaia and Crixus but sex scenes are _really_ not my forte. Fortunately because I didn't include Tullius or Vettius there's no one around to kill Gaia and she'll get to live a while longer. Plenty of time for more scenes with her and Crixus. :) Thank you so much for the review and all your ideas and support! I really appreciate it.

 **BookKeeper88:** Octavia isn't too sure about how he feels, either! I would say for the time being it's somewhere in between those two things. I'm glad you enjoyed her developing her friendship with Crixus, and thanks for the review! :)

 **Vikihungerrgame1:** That is a totally valid reason to ship Spartavia (I like this one most, I think) and I support you. I'm impressed you know so much about Caesar! It means I'm going to have to do proper research since I can't trick you. :P No, but yes, his wife is going to die. She's still alive now but she's RIPing before War of the Damned era bidness.

No, Gaia has no clue who her parents really are. But look, she was nice this chapter! See! Now you just have to trust me that Caesar will be someday, too! Titus and Oenomaus both have no idea what happened at the party and … for the time being, it's definitely going to stay that way. We don't need Oenomaus chopping poor Gannicus into little tiny pieces on us.

This was totally a depressing chapter to write which is probably why it took so long. Fooooortunately, he _will_ be back and Blood and Sand will be tons of fun! And no, I don't think I have seen any of the Spartacus crack videos. Just the bloopers. Recommend me some of the funny ones!

 **Queenofterassen:** Don't worry, Gannicus and Octavia are definitely my favorite ship. And if by what Spartacus, do you mean Andy or Liam? OBVIOUSLY ANDY! He's the only Spartacus worth mentioning. Thanks so much for your review, I hope you continue to enjoy!

 **Ariana Le Fay:** Thank you so much for your reviews! As for who I picture as Octavia, that's totally up to your own imagination. Whoever you picture should be a POC as her parents are black and Hispanic, but aside from that, it's up to you! :)

 **Eitan:** I'm glad you could find my fic in your time of need! I know how painful it is to watch Spartacus and then come on here and find no new fics to read. I'm thrilled somebody enjoys reading Octavia/Caesar as much as I enjoy writing them. I'll admit I'm very partial to ships where they kind of start out as enemies.

As for any pacing issues or lack of development with certain characters, you've got to understand this fic in its majority was written about five years ago with a friend with zero intention of ever sharing it with anyone else. I did a **lot** of editing to make it presentable enough to post on here, but to make this fic (in my opinion) actually _good_ , it would've required an entire rewrite. There are tons of things that I wish we had written differently or spent more time on, but at the end of the day, I would just go ahead and write a completely new Spartacus story if I wanted to fix it. So, unfortunately, you're just kind of stuck with what we wrote all those years ago, flaws and all. :P

Hopefully you continue to enjoy reading it for what it is, and thank you for your review! :)

 **KEJunge:** I'm so glad you managed to stumble upon my fic! I'm also happy to see someone else agrees that part of the greatness of Spartacus is all the suffering involved. It's just not good if you don't feel empty inside at the end. :P Thanks for your review!

 **Everyone else:** Thank you so much for all of your reviews! Getting positive feedback on this is definitely what forces me to continue editing and writing and compiling new chapters to post on here, so I really appreciate it! :)


	10. BLOOD & SAND, Chapter 1

**THREE YEARS LATER**

His lips were cracked, split, and bleeding. The drought had shown none of them much mercy but it had taken much more from the poor and unfortunate. Scars lined every limb of his body; his arms, his legs, his torso, all littered with tiny nicks and much deeper cuts. Bruises formed across what little could be seen of his face, the rest covered in a wild beard and long, untamed hair. He looked savage, deranged. More beast than man.

At the sound of footsteps he broke into a frenzy, lunging for the dark mass that had invaded his cell but coming up painfully short when his chains reached their limit. The figure flinched back and away, its hand gripping one of the iron bars that kept him contained. It could not be Glaber returned again; the man had not and would not show such fear in his presence.

A long moment passed before the figure seemed ready to venture another attempt into his cell. Curious to see who had come for him, he waited patiently, confusion falling heavy on his brow as a young girl came into view. He thought her a house slave at first but as torches illuminated more of her, he knew her dress to be too fine of quality for a slave. "Who are you?" he demanded.

Still eyeing him warily, she gave no response as she hesitated on the edge of his cell, looking tempted to run back out and never look back. The man had been at their ludus for little more than a week and had caused more chaos and destruction than all of his predecessors combined. He refused Oenomaus's command, he made attempt on their champion's life, drew the ire of a legatus from Rome … it was no wonder her father seemed content to leave him for dead now. Two days he had been in that cell with no food and no water. The girl offered him no answer, at least not one he could hear, but produced a large, round loaf of bread and extended it closer to him. "Take it," she urged, after a long moment passed without him doing so.

"At what cost?" he demanded. "What is your price?"

"My price is that you do not die. Do you find such terms agreeable?"

Stomach made decision for him and he all but lunged for the bread, tearing it out of her hand and sending her skittering backwards in fear once more. He gave her a weary look, wondering if she would run now, but she remained within sight, watching as he struggled to get the bread to his mouth with such short chains around his wrists. He managed, with great difficulty, and in little time at all the bread was gone and so was the aching in his stomach.

* * *

"You should be training." Spartacus looked up to see the blonde, Varro, he remembered. "Unless you are so easily welcoming death's embrace?" Spartacus squinted up at him, the real sun burning his eyes and he rejected it for the woman above. "Cast your gaze downward, the daughter of Batiatus is not one whose attention you will want to attract absent a sword in your hand and blood on the ground."

"Daughter?" asked Spartacus, glancing between the girl and her alleged father now. Where the father stood fair, the girl was darker than Barca. Though Batiatus's hair had long turned grey and his woman wore too many wigs to discern natural color, her hair was too thick and too dark to have only Roman blood in her. She appeared to have Egyptian influences in her, or perhaps those of Hispania. "That is not his daughter," he concluded. "She does not have his look."

"I would not broach subject with the man," muttered Varro, though he had held the same opinions of the girl's widely varying appearance. Perhaps his wife had snuck beneath the ludus and fucked one of the gladiators to produce the girl. Barca, by the looks of her, perhaps Oenomaus.

Ashur ambled past the pair of new recruits, both oddly focused on the balcony above. He followed their gaze and landed somewhere not entirely unexpected. "Ah, Octavia," he murmured, calling both sets of eyes to himself now. "A girl who has dragged many an unsuspecting champion to his ruin."

All three men shifted their eyes to Crixus, if only briefly. It was unwise to be caught staring at the Undefeated Gaul. "I had heard of her affections for one of the slaves but I had not expected Crixus," muttered Varro, his disdain for the man apparent.

A smile spread across Ashur's face. "Ah, he but wishes. Not Crixus but the one who came before," said Ashur. "Gannicus, he was called."

"The man who won his freedom?"

Spartacus looked truly interested now. He had never heard of any slave winning their freedom, but it presented golden opportunity. He would not have to fight countless battles to earn the coin to buy his freedom if he could simply win it. "The only man to do so in the arena," the Syrian confirmed.

"Where is the man now?" asked Spartacus.

"Never seen again," said Ashur, his eyes finding Octavia on the balcony again. "She was too soft for the ludus then. Always a smile on her lips and a kind word for every slave. She smiles less often now."

* * *

"Doctore." The voice was gentle, but cracked like the whip Oenomaus carried. "I have need of the Thracian."

Then a real whip cracked as Oenomaus stepped forward. "Spartacus!" he shouted, his voice too fearsome for any man to consider disobeying him.

Spartacus followed obediently behind the girl, too curious about the visit to protest to it in any way. He expected the girl, Octavia, Ashur had said, to speak to him, as her father often did. She kept her back to him as she led him through the villa until they arrived at their destination. Spartacus wasn't sure what he had been expecting, but it certainly hadn't been a bath bigger than his entire home in Thrace had been, surrounded by naked women. Confused, Spartacus rounded on the girl who stood beside him. "What is this?"

"A bath," she answered with a laugh. "I suppose I shouldn't be surprised by your confusion, given your current state." While her laughter had subsided, she still smiled up at him. "A state to be remedied presently."

"You offer bath?" he demanded. "At what price?"

"Always this talk of price with you. I do not offer it at any price, I command it," she corrected, the smile still firmly in place as she nodded toward the water. "I would not submit the men to your stench any longer."

In a room filled with small, naked women, Spartacus thought it in his power to refuse. However, he knew the naked women could be easily replaced with armed guards or, even worse, trained gladiators. He removed the last of his clothes, glancing curiously at the girl as she quickly shifted her gaze from him, before stepping into the scalding water.

As soon as his foot had been fully submerged, three women descended upon him, each armed with soap. He waved them away dismissively, and when refused, he resorted to a more forceful approach. Wide eyes searched for their Domina's guidance in dealing with his brutish ways, and soon they dispersed. "I can wash myself," he informed her when he noticed the irritated look on her face.

The irritation made way for the smile again as she stepped closer to the edge of the bath and squatted in front of him. He flinched when she reached her hand toward him, but quickly decided she herself could do little harm to him. "I am certain you are quite capable of many things," she told him agreeably, her grip on his chin was light. "But you do not lead here, Spartacus. You follow. Now you will let these women attend you, or I will see them replaced by guards."

She barely had to raise a hand before three of the women came down upon him again, each with sponge or soap, reaching for him. It took much willpower for him to let them touch him, to clean him of the layers of dirt, sweat and blood. His gaze did not leave the girl as she paced the bath, around she walked, taking wine from another slave and sipping it as she watched him with amusement in her eyes.

He shoved one of the slaves away firmly when her hands traveled beneath the surface of the water. The others backed away with unnerved expression, "Now what ails you?" she demanded, standing before him, forcing him to crane his neck to meet her gaze. "Do you fear for your cock? I can assure you they won't harm it, though I'm certain you could do with a good fuck. Perhaps that would ease the tightness in your brow." He thought it passing odd that he only now began to believe her to be Batiatus's daughter. What she lacked in his look she amended with decent imitation.

"No," he said gruffly.

"Do their faces displease you?" she asked, leaning towards him again. "My attempt was to do the opposite. Tell me your type and I'll round them up. What did she look like?"

"Who?"

"Your wife," she answered.

"Her beauty is not easily replicated," he informed her curtly.

Octavia kicked off her sandals and approached the bath again, hiking up her dress as she sat at its side, allowing her legs to fall in beside the man. "Loyalty is an admirable trait," she stated, and she meant it. If only all men in her father's ludus held women in such esteem. "I mean only to balm wounds with gentle touch."

"I do not wish for it," he said, hoping it would be the last he'd have to refuse the women. He knew they only did as commanded but he was growing more vexed by their presence by the moment.

"As you say," Octavia answered with a shrug. Her father hadn't been wrong about the man having no interest in women. It hardly mattered. She'd brought him to the baths to make him look a man, instead of the animal that currently stood before her. With a flick of Octavia's wrist, one of the slave girls procured the knife she had been given and made to approach Spartacus.

Spartacus seemed even less fond of a naked woman with a knife. He grabbed the girl by the wrist and ripped the blade from her grasp before her shoving her away again. The girl let out a yelp at the assault and guards rushed the room in an instant. Feeling threatened and vulnerable, Spartacus wielded the knife with deadly purpose, backing away from the armed men but keeping his eyes on them. "Octavia," one of the guards grunted, rushing toward his master's daughter, desperate to pull her from the bath and the reach of the madman wielding a dagger.

"Stop," she commanded, raising a hand to still him and the other guards. When none of the men seemed likely to act out of turn, she shifted her attention to Spartacus. "The blade is for cutting your hair," she informed him calmly. "Place it in my hand or see yourself struck from this world."

Spartacus contemplated disobeying her for a brief moment. He could likely kill every man in the room and escape unscathed. But there were more guards stationed throughout the villa, and there was an army of well trained gladiators below. He wasn't certain how far he would get naked and with nothing but a tiny dagger. "Domina," he muttered, keeping his eyes on the men around them as he slowly placed the dagger into her outstretched hands.

Octavia breathed a heavy sigh of relief when she could clutch her fingers around the blade. How long had she been holding her breath? "Leave us," she told the guards, who hesitated before she turned a sharp gaze on them. When the guards had exited, she jerked her head for the women to leave, as well. Only when they were the only two to remain in the room did Octavia turn her attention back to Spartacus. "It is a fucking wonder you've survived two days in this ludus."

"Any man would react the same when being advanced on with a blade!"

Octavia rubbed her eyes wearily, looking Spartacus over with tired eyes. Was the man truly worth the effort her father had asked she put into him? Thracians were notoriously hard to train and this man was proving the legends true. "Come here," she murmured, flicking her wrist lazily.

Spartacus took a slow, hesitant step toward her, not wanting to push the girl he had already shown great disobedience to. He knew she was not far from calling the guards back in to slit his throat while he was unarmed. Perhaps, he thought, she meant to slit his throat herself. Regardless of intention, he knew he had no choice but to approach.

When he was within reach, Octavia grabbed him by the back of the neck and pulled him closer. "If you raise your hand against me, I will let them tear you apart," she warned, before slowly bringing the dagger to his cheek. He flinched from the cool steel, but made no other movement against her. "My father would see you look a man." She hesitated another moment, fearful of the reaction of a man who seemed prone to violent outbursts, before pressing the blade closer and dragging it down his cheek. She breathed another sigh of relief when the skin of his cheek revealed itself from beneath the thick hair and Spartacus made no attempt to stop her from continuing.

It took only a few moments before he was closing his eyes. Her gentle hands on his face, touching where the knife cut away hair from skin, small fingers dancing across his chin and cheek for what seemed like decades. He lost himself in it, much against his will, and opened his eyes again to feel her running her fingers against his scalp, through his hair, tugging here and there as he felt it all become suddenly lighter. Hair fell gently against his shoulders and still her fingers ran through.

He swallowed, feeling a stirring beneath the water as his hands gripped the edge of the bath on either side of her. He could feel her leaning ever closer, feel her warm breath against his skin. How long had it been since he'd felt his wife's hands on his skin, run through his hair? How much time had passed, even now, since she'd lured him into these waters?

But questions began to form in his mind as he tried to ignore the yearnings of his body. Why had her father sent her for such a task? It was a dangerous thing to tempt a man in the way she did and another man would not have hesitated in taking what he wanted. "Your father sent you to do this?" She smiled again, contrary to Ashur's words, but it seemed a sad one. "Why?"

"You cost him an exceeding amount of coin," she said. A fact well known. "And yet your performance within the ludus falls shy of expectation set by the games."

"Shorter hair will not make me a more obedient slave." The girl offered no response. "You're meant to make me more obedient."

He expected the charade to end at the accusation, but her hands continue to work, soft and gentle against his whiskered jaw. "To have me within reach and yet just out of it …" she murmured, her eyes shifting from her work to finally meet his own. "It's meant to cause a stirring within your breast." Her fingers trailed from his jaw down his neck until she grazed her knuckles against his chest. "Can you not feel it?"

Her smile told him she was teasing, but the truth was he could. It had been months since he'd last held his wife, felt her touch, her lips, her gentle gaze. Batiatus knew that. In the haze and steam of the bath, with his eyes closed, the woman made a fair attempt at replacement. Every inch of him wanted to pull her closer, to take what had been offered. "Could Gannicus feel it?"

The smile was gone now.


	11. BLOOD & SAND, Chapter 2

_Could Gannicus feel it?_

Four words had never struck her so hard. She recoiled from the man, fearing he may deal her yet another blow. She made to disentangle herself from him entirely, but found her movements restricted when his hands grasped at her, his fingers digging into her hips as he held her in her place, her thighs still wrapped around him. "I'll not be a Roman plaything," he told her.

Octavia struggled to remain impassive; his fingers would leave bruises, she was certain, and it was no easy task to keep the pain from her face. "You label me Roman and yet mistake me for frightened rabbit," she said. "The next hand you place upon me will be struck from body, Thracian. I wonder how long it will take a one handed gladiator to earn his wife's freedom."

His vision blurred red. He blinked and found his hand at her throat, fingers tight. He yanked her down into the bath and forced her into the wall when her legs began to kick at him, pressing his body against hers to keep it still, "What do you know of my wife?" he demanded. Her eyes were wide as her lips parted either to draw breath or give answer, but his fingers were tight around her fragile neck; if he but squeezed a bit harder … instead his fingers loosened, only enough for her to gasp and glare at him furiously.

"Wit leaves you with threat of a hand, and instead you bargain your life?" she wheezed, his hand still pressed firmly against her chest. "A dead husband would be a blessing to your wife," she spat and he moved his hand towards her throat again before feeling something sharp press threateningly against his side. "Go ahead," she encouraged. "Nothing would please me more than to watch you bleed out like one of the pigs you fucked back in Thrace."

He had felt the cut of a blade before, ones much larger than the one she wielded. "Guards!" she barely had to raise her voice before they entered the room and he quickly released her and made to step away before he flinched upon feeling the burn at his side and barely had time to glance down at the water turning red around her, the blade in her hand piercing the surface as she brought it up, "I am not in the business of empty threats," she informed him, her voice cold as the guards reached into the bath and yanked him, from it, dragging him from the room.

Spartacus thought himself freed from her presence as he was carried back to the bowels of the ludus, the gash at his side seeping, but not fatal in the least, hardly enough to afford him time with the medicus. "To the sands," he heard her command from behind, proving him half right on his thoughts; he wouldn't see the medicus, but it seemed he'd never be freed of the girl.

The clashing of practice swords on wooden shields and the grunts and shouts of the gladiators was his first greeting, the second being the sand in his mouth as he was tossed into it. He scrambled to get bearing on his position and the guards around him. They were retreating, however, and he instead sought the girl; she stood before him, her dress soaked and clinging to her, pink with his blood, and the dagger still in her hand. "Crixus," was all she said. It was all that needed to be said.

Spartacus had never known the ludus to fall so silent, though the gaze of all the men upon him was more than familiar. Even the fury that passed over Crixus's features was familiar, though he had never seen the man look quite as enraged as when his eyes fell upon Octavia in her current state. "Domina," he replied, stepping forward without hesitation. He was a bundle of energy, on the tips of his toes as if barely able to hold himself back from lunging for the man before him.

"Spartacus has forgotten his place and begs demonstration as reminder," Octavia said. "Oblige him."

Spartacus's eyes found her for just a moment, surprised to hear her speak the command, but he focused on Crixus again upon hearing the man move, leaping to his feet as quickly as he could, which wasn't quite fast enough. Crixus's shield hit harder than anything he'd felt before and his body soared into the air before slamming back down to the sand.

Crixus was on top of him in an instant, landing one punch against his jaw, and then another, before Spartacus grabbed his arm, grappling with him until the pair rolled onto their sides. But then Crixus's head flew forward, and Spartacus's vision went blurry as blood poured from his nose. Crixus's fingers found the hole Octavia had left in his side, digging and tearing inside of it until he screamed.

"I don't think that's quite low enough," he heard the girl say, before he was forced to roll over, his face pressed down into the sand as she placed a dainty, sandaled foot against his cheek to keep him there. "Remember this, Thracian, the next time you think yourself a man instead of a slave."

* * *

Lucretia and tried, and failed, to tempt the wife of Gaius Claudius Glaber with food and wine, only to have the woman request water, while their husbands stood overlooking the sands as the gladiators below trained. Ilithyia let out an anguished sigh as Lucretia handed off the full wine goblets to a slave, waiting for water to take their place. "The heat and the dust ... will it ever rain again?" she practically whined, sounding more a petulant child than Lucretia could recall her daughter ever had.

"We can only pray," she replied as Ilithyia wandered around the table filled with the fine delicacies Lucretia had prepared for their company. She left them untouched, barely glancing at them, before approaching the balcony, continuing her complaints of Capua and its drought. Lucretia thought the girl would never cease her tongue and approached her with water, hoping to occupy it.

"Perhaps we've done something to offend them," she supplied offhandedly. It was all she could do to pacify her; if food and wine did not work … a wicked smile crept across Ilithyia's face, impish really.

"I try to do a little something everyday," she practically squealed, taking the slightest sip of her water. Lucretia pacified the girl as long as she could while their husbands continued their conversation before an unexpected voice carried up from the sands below. Had the voice not stolen her ear, the name it called would have. Curious and a bit concerned, the women joined their husbands to look below. Lucretia's jaw nearly cracked when she saw her daughter, soaked and carrying a bloody dagger, every eye in the ludus upon her … until they weren't.

Lucretia was certain Ilithyia would ask a dozen questions but the moment Crixus took to Spartacus, they evaporated from her tongue like a drop of water on the streets of Capua. "What is a child doing in a ludus?" Glaber finally asked, sounding less appalled than one might expect at the sight of Octavia pressing her foot into Spartacus's face.

"Octavia," Batiatus clarified. "The Thracian's fate is sealed, only its mean of delivery remains in question. He may find it a blessing to fall in the arena and escape wrath of loving daughter."

"Daughter?" asked Ilithyia, finally finding her voice. "How curious," she muttered as Octavia finally turned her back to the sands and reentered the villa. Crixus spat down at Spartacus, who appeared to be struggling to catch his breath, before returning back to his sparring partner. "A wild thing, is she not?"

Lucretia's tongue struggled to find the words to answer. Octavia had been a frequent visitor of the sands when Gannicus had yet graced them. She had not seen the girl return to them in many years, and certainly not in such a fashion. "She was raised in the ludus," she finally answered. "One learns to contend with the beasts below."

"She seems half beast herself," said Ilithyia, the amusement evident in her tone. The girl had looked positively deranged in her torn and drenched gown, her hair little more than a nest of curls clinging to her forehead and cheeks. It was no easy feat to to reconcile that this was the same girl rumored to have earned Julius Caesar's favor. "I shall have to assist you in making a proper Roman of her."

* * *

Octavia stormed back into the ludus, past the iron gate that kept the gladiators trapped below. She only made it so far as the stairs before she succumbed to it, the name threatening to envelop her like a silent tsunami. It was right before her, and her arms and legs felt paralyzed as the flow of time stopped. The air grew thin and she had trouble breathing as the tsunami's liquid wall swallowed her whole. Sounds grew distant as the familiar image was projected onto the screen of her consciousness again and again as his laughter and his warm, familiar scent, sweat and sand and blood mixed into one, hovered faintly in the air.

How long had it been since that name had been spoken anywhere but in the deep recesses of her mind? How, after so long, did it still have such a powerful hold over her? She was not the little girl she had been but his memory still proved more effective than Spartacus in choking the life from her. He had been the sun, never to rise again, and she had long resigned herself to the darkness until Spartacus threatened her with flicker of light long forgotten.

"Domina," a voice called, warm, strong hands embracing her and pulling her back out of the depths. Melitta's eyes fell upon the skin at her throat, already shaded a painful lilac hue that likely matched the flesh of her hips. "Oenomaus will throw him from the cliffs."

"The man will seal his own fate, Melitta," she assured the woman. "I need no hand in it."

* * *

 **Author's Note:** Listen, I know y'all thought I was dead. Or, worse, alive and never planning to update this story. Fortunately for you, the friend I originally wrote this story with had revamped her interest in Spartacus. As such, expect many updates coming very soon. :)

 _Special thanks to:_

 **Arianna Le Fay:** Caesar went through a lot of development before saving the Roman woman. Don't worry - he is not eternally the villain of the story. Melitta is definitely still here. Her and Gaia were two of my favorite characters and I wanted to give them both different endings. As for Spartacus and Octavia … you'll have to wait and see. :P

 **Leah Tatyana Nicole:** Caesar will be seen very soon. He won't be in Blood and Sand, but we will have a flashback chapter to the three years the story skipped. :)

 **swingrim:** I wish I could tell you for certain about Crixus and Octavia's relationship in this story. As we write it, we keep flipping back and forth on whether or not to include him as a love interest for her. We both love Crixus dearly, but we will have to see how he fits into the story with her as we wouldn't want to force a romance that doesn't quite fit.

 **Eitan:** I also agree that there was a lot of potential during those three years. Don't worry, there will be a flashback chapter for the three years we skipped. :)

 **KEJunge:** I'm always happy to hear that including Crassus and Caesar worked out well as it was a bit of a stretch for the imagination. I'm also thrilled to hear how fast you read all the chapters! :) Thank you for the review, and I promise not to hold back on any cruelty for the characters.

 **VikiHungerrgame1:** You are so right, Octavia was very naive. It's a flaw for her in the earlier chapters, and Gaia definitely had the right of the situation. As for Grandpa - he dead. Melitta and Gaia, however … :P

Octavia is sixteen in the beginning of the story and therefore 19 at the start of Blood and Sand. As for Caesar, you'll be seeing him soon. :D

 **And everyone else!** Thank you so much for all of the reviews and private messages you've all sent over the past six months or so that you've been waiting for an update. I know it's been a terribly long time without any new content, but I think it's important not to rush a story when you're not feeling inspiration for it. Hopefully you're all still with me and you'll enjoy the new chapters, coming soon! :)


	12. BLOOD & SAND, Chapter 3

"Crixus. You are summoned." It was always fantasy for him to imagine it would be Octavia who would be the one doing so. Often times, it was the thought of her that got him through the passionate moments he shared with Lucretia. Others, it was trying desperately to not think about her being but a few walls away. She haunted him, a ghost within the walls of the villa, ever present, only ever catching a glimpse of her, flitting between rooms, just above the ludus, _just_ out of sight.

Naevia escorted him without a word, hands clasped in front of her, head bowed as she walked swiftly, Crixus felt his own feet drag as he followed after her; the villa was quiet, as it usually was when she called for him.

"Naevia," her voice was a bell, "I would have words with Crixus." His name was like honey on her tongue.

Naevia visibly winced, "Apologies, domina, but-"

"I do not ask, Naevia, I command," Octavia interrupted, halting Naevia's tongue. "Crixus will find his way, absent your guide. He has been there before, has he not?" Naevia almost hesitated before bowing to Octavia and slipping away quickly.

Crixus searched desperately for his tongue, to find any words to share with her, but could only stare, taking in as much of her as he could, having been deprived too quickly of her upon the sands, choosing to follow her will over his own desire. The seconds grew between them, each more blessed than the last, until she finally spoke, "You handled Spartacus well," she finally said, her gaze shifting to his and holding it.

"My sword, your will, domina," he said simply. "As it has always been."

A smile tugged at her lips, "Swift action had to be taken, to see it delivered by your hand made it all the sweeter." He could feel his chest swell slightly at her praise, her eyes sparkling as she looked him over.

"The Thracian will meet his end in the arena, domina," he assured her.

"Or upon the sands should he fail to learn his place," she sneered before sighing. "A topic I already tire of. We can but pray it comes swiftly. If the gods were just it would be your sword he met in final test, but he has not earned such a glorious death, has he?"

"No, domina," Crixus agreed. "I'd sooner cast him from the cliffs and see his head split open upon the rocks below."

Spartacus would not have been the first to meet such an end, nor would he likely be the last. The cliffs served well to erase unwanted presence permanently, as if they'd been tossed to the gates of Tartarus, never to return again to the world of the living. "You and I are of a similar mind," she murmured, the tips of her fingers grazing against the soreness of her throat. It had been several days since his assault upon her in the bath, but it still ached.

"As we've often been," agreed Crixus, his eyes following her fingers to her throat. He had wondered what had transpired between the girl and the Thracian but he could scarcely believe it had been that. Spartacus would have been castrated and hung upon a cross to bleed out had he laid a hand upon the girl … unless she hadn't told Batiatus. Crixus found that his hands wanted to follow his eyes, the tips of his fingers hovering closer and closer to her throat.

"By the gods, where is that _fucking_ m-" Lucretia's tongue halted in her throat upon witnessing the pair in front of her, Crixus's hand still hanging in the air between them.

"Apologies, mother," said Octavia, her eyes trailing up and down the silk robe her mother was barely dressed in before meeting Lucretia's gaze. "I had not meant to delay him."

Even as she left, Crixus had eyes only for her. Lucretia caught him by the chin, turning his gaze to her. "You are mine, Crixus," she told him, her voice absent its usual seductive tone. Instead each word was met with hard edge. "You will always be mine."

"Yes, domina," he could only agree.

* * *

The drought had brought Capua to its knees. Upon a time, it had been lush trees and flowers she would look upon out her window. It was little more than dirt now, and a far cry from the view she'd had when in Rome, but view had been pale pleasure in comparison with company. It had been two years since she had heard Gaia's voice, or felt her warm and protective embrace. She could not blame the woman for finding little interest in returning to Capua in its current state, but she felt an ever increasing desire to return to her in Rome. She wrote now to tell her so, hoping that the sentiment would be well received.

As she drew out her words, the hair on the back of her neck stood tall. Something felt off in the room, something felt wrong. One glance to her open door revealed what haunted her; Spartacus outside her chambers, watching her for a long moment before being shoved forward and away. "Why," she demanded so loudly the guards outside paused as she stormed out to meet them with the rest of her question, "does this _animal_ roam the halls of this villa?"

"Your father summons him, domina," one of the men answered. There were three guards who traveled with him, but Octavia feared it not enough. She had felt his hands around her throat, the strength they possessed. Three men would not be enough to deter him.

"I would sooner see him to the mines," she murmured, mostly to herself, before turning from them, hoping to return to the sanctuary that was her room.

"A disappointment, domina," Spartacus called after her. "To not be summoned by you again."

The mere sound of his voice was enough to cause her throat to ache. Her fingers longed to reach for it, to provide comfort with cool touch, but she forced them to remain at her sides. "The gods will not favor you with my presence again, Thracian," she assured him.

"Do not blame the gods for your fear," said Spartacus.

She turned to face him again, her eyes falling upon the guards who yet surrounded him, before finally leveling her gaze to his. "I am not afraid of you," she lied. "It is neither fear nor the gods that keep me from you. I would sooner fuck an eel than have the brutish hands of a _slave_ upon me."

"Unless commanded otherwise by doting father," he answered without missing a beat.

The disgust slipped from her face as she stared at him, vaguely aware of the guards exchanging looks around them. Her face grew hot. "You do jump to wild conclusions, Spartacus," she said, forcing a smile she hoped looked mocking instead of pained.

"And land on solid footing." He watched her evenly, paying little mind to the guards that she could not seem to forget. She prayed they would not speak of this to any others in the ludus, but knew they would. "I should not have feared becoming Roman plaything when you so clearly stand plaything to slaves."

Octavia could feel the fire raging in her stomach as Spartacus stared down, far too much satisfaction in his eyes. She had an unbearable urge to slap the smirk off his chapped lips, but the very thought of touching the man made her physically ill, "You would stand idly by and have this beast speak to your domina in such a manner?" she quickly demanded of the guards, which only seemed to humor Spartacus more.

"You attempt to play vicious snake, domina, but I have only witnessed meek mouse," he commented, having no shame but finally receiving a sharp shove from one of the guards. "Allow me to relieve you of my presence and spare you further ridicule," another guard shoved their elbow into Spartacus's stomach, causing him to double over towards her, almost in a bow, yet she couldn't stop herself from flinching away from him.

"You," she tried. "You are a fool of a man. If you believe your mockery of the daughter of Batiatus will be rewarded with living wife-"

"I pay the debt of my wife with sword in battle," he said, only straightening himself enough to meet her eye level. "Not with pretty words to you," he finished, grinning and wincing when the third guard took his turn to shove the hilt of his spear into Spartacus's side.

"Remove him from my sight," she snapped at that guards as they wasted no time in taking firm hold of Spartacus, who she knew was merely allowing them to do so. "Set sights for new path to my father should he summon the fucking Thracian animal again," she added before watching them drag the momentarily obedient man further into the villa.

She turned on her heel, entering her room again, a large lump in the throat she grasped freely now that her assailant was no longer watching. Relief washed over her as cool fingers pressed against tender bruises. Clearly the lesson she had sought to teach the Thracian had not stuck. He was nothing more than burden to the Batiatus household, he would be nothing more than an incompetent dog, never to learn his place and yet her father still entertained the man with promises of a wife. She hadn't been afforded the opportunity of meeting Gaius Claudius Glaber, but surely his good graces weren't worth her ever thinning sanity.

Octavia tried to continue her letter to Gaia, longing to still be in the city, now more than ever but she could only see red on the parchment now. Among the overflowing fountains and baths, where water was abundant and the slaves knew their place ... 'A plaything', his words repeated in her mind, and it only drove her to fury that there might have been some truth to them.

* * *

"Perhaps I spoke out of turn," Spartacus admitted. Victories won in the arena were more honorable than bowing to a child that called herself domina, but victory in one of the earliest matches of the Vulcanalia would earn him no more than half a coin. The last man to have held that girl's affections had won his freedom.

"Perhaps," Varro agreed. "Although perhaps it still merits attempt if words spoken to the girl sees your position elevated in the games."

"You think her to be moved?" asked Spartacus, sounding surprised.

"No," said Varro, a smile playing upon his lips. "But to witness such spectacular failure would lift the heart."

Spartacus shook his head, giving the man beside him a playful shove. "Perhaps I should have given her what she wanted," he said. "I could have eased the strain in her brow."

Varro stood sharply, stepping away from his friend. "Do not say such things while sitting beside me," he commanded. "I have been dragged down by the mighty Spartacus once before," he added, recalling a time not so long ago when he had been standing in shit and piss up to his waist.

Spartacus laughed, "I would not take company of meek child to replace a wife who has given me pleasure enough to last this life and the next," he commented. "The only thing that would ease her brow would be to see me with sword buried in chest." Varro chuckled, making to sit back down before his laughter ceased abruptly and he took a step back.

"You continue to forget your place, Thracian mutt," Crixus's voice growled from behind him. Spartacus felt his jaw clench. "And tempt me to deliver yet another lesson on where it is." Spartacus rolled his neck slightly, attempting to loosen the tightness between his shoulders before setting his bowl down.

"Apologies, Crixus," he started, standing slowly and turning to face the man. "I had forgotten her lap dog was so near," he said, suppressing his smirk. "Tell me, Gaul, do you wait for command of keeper or have you still a will of your own?"

"Spartacus," Varro tried to warn, but took a step back all the same.

"I require no order to relieve you of your life," Crixus said through his teeth.

"But have received command not to take it," he pointed out. "From your fair domina? She may yet favor me next should I share sweet words she longs to hear … or gentle touch-" He'd expected Crixus to react poorly, but mockery of the girl made him only slightly less predictable. He'd seen the Gaul taunted into a fight with far less provocation, his surprise merely came at how long he had held back. The white spots danced in front of his eyes as Crixus's fist met his temple, but he managed to remain standing, barely ducking enough to miss the next blow before swiftly delivering his own.

The rest of the men were shouting, yelling, cheering. Spartacus barely caught a glimpse of Varro's disappointed gaze before Crixus was charging for him, crushing him against the wall so hard he thought the back of his head nearly cracked against it. Crixus drove his fists into Spartacus's side several times before Spartacus was raising his arms and digging his elbows as sharply into the man's shoulder as he possibly could. Crixus stumbled back with a slight grunt, and glared at Spartacus with a wild fury in his eyes. Spartacus rolled his shoulder, wincing slightly at what may have been a bruised rib before readying himself to the next attack.

Instead, they both flinched at the crack of a whip and Oenomaus standing just outside. Only then did Spartacus relax his shoulders, slightly, still ready should Crixus not heed the Doctore's warning, "If there is will to fight, there is will enough to train. Discard your meals and find yourselves back upon the sands, all of you," he barked. Varro was quick to find Spartacus's side again, dragging him away from Crixus, who had a mutinous look in his eye that would certainly be keeping Varro awake that night.


End file.
